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lONE. 





A SEQUEL TO “VASHTI.” 


BY 



CHARLOTTE CRISMAN COX. 





BOSTON : 

EASTERN PUBLISHING COMPANY, 
6 1 Court Street. 

1900 

4 * 






62654 


Librsury o i Congress 

Tvku Cwies Received 

OCT 18 1900 

Copyright wtry 

&?, ifOO 

: no $ a. %?#././, <3... . 

SECOND COPY. 

Obiivered to 

OPlDtR DIVISION, 


MOV lu iaG0 



Copyright, 1900, 
by 

Charlotte Crisman Cox. 

^Jt&UeL 

fj ^oXtAX Q. , (& 0)0. OA CUi 

" OttmMi,, QJU 1 




®cJ)ication. 


TO EACH AND EVERY ONE OF MY FRIENDS WHO, 
WHEN CLOUDS WERE THICKEST AND LOWEST, 
FLASHED UPON ME THE PIERCING RAYS OF LOVE, 
ENABLING ME TO GROPE TO THE LIGHT OF 
RE-INSTATED FAITH IN HUMANITY, 

AND TO THOSE WHO SUBSTANTIALLY AIDED ME 
IN MY LITERARY WORK, 

I DEDICATE 

THIS EARNEST ATTEMPT TO AID THE READER TO 
u PUT HIMSELF IN THE OTHER MAN'S PLACE.” 


Charlotte Crisman Cox 


0 


IONE. 

CHAPTER I. 


“O golden age, whose light is of the dawn 
And not of sunset, forward not behind, 

Flood the new heavens and earth ; and with thee bring 
All the old virtues, whatsoever things 
Are pure and honest and of good repute, 

But add thereto whatever bard has sung 
Or seer has told of when in trance or dream 
They saw the happy isles of prophecy. 

Let justice hold her scale, and truth devide 
Between the right and wrong j buf give the heart , 

The freedom of its fair inheritance. ” 



ITH a feeling approaching bitterness, 
Salome Owen slowly repeated these 
lines as she watched the carriage, 
bearing Dr. Grey to the depot, turn 
the corner of the avenue of elms and shut from 
her blurred vision the loved form of her “ king.” 

" Good-bye, Ulpian Grey ! Good-bye, but not 
forever, for as sure as God grants us only a 
brief extension of years, just so sure I shall see 
you again.” 


v 



6 


IONE. 


To escape the loud grief of little Jessie, and 
to hide her own from her childish but often 
correct intuition, she hastily retreated to a 
distant walk at the bottom of the terraced 
garden. The effulgent rays of the rising sun 
poured through the convolvulus vines, and 
would have stirred the soul of any less petrified 
being to the glorious beauties of the morning, 
but to Salome, these rays were no more life- 
giving than a breeze from the frigid zone. 
Gladly would she have exchanged surroundings 
for the “wings of Icarus, ” and cared not for an 
ending as fatal. 

But the “ pale horse and his rider” often 
heed not the wooings and beckonings of the 
despairing soul, but turn and snatches one from 
the pleasanter walks of life. 

With hands so tightly clasped that the nails 
had dented and almost pierced the ivory palms, 
she hastily paced up and down the shell strewn 
walk. 

Longinus has remarked : that “ the true sub- 
lime may sometimes be attained by the silent 
musings of man.” 

“ Rejected of the man I hold dearer than 
life, but I will not be always,” she said aloud. 
“ Just so sure, Ulpian Grey, as we are creatures 
of environment, just so sure you shall yet admit 


iONE. 


7 


Salome Owen, — ‘ the miller’s daughter’ — cap- 
able of that sublimity that dwarfted souls can- 
not reach. If it be true that I am the wayward 
creature you doubtless justly think me, then my 
aspirations and love of the good and perfect tran- 
scend yours. To the impetuous girl who loved 
you better than life, you gave only your broth- 
erly love, while to the white haired creature 
whose heart and name were anothers, you gave 
that wealth of affection I so much craved. If 
I came unsought, did not you do the same ? 
In your puritanical, conservative ideas of life, 
you make woman an exalted creature to be 
above temptation. 

But, Ulpian Grey, have you proved this by 
your choice? Your petted idol was guilty of 
the violation of half the laws of the decalogue. 
First, she took through haste and lack of 
patience, the life that rightfully belonged to 
another, — took him for ‘better or worse,’ — to 
be cast aside at the first discovery of his faith- 
lessness. Others, unsung, have lived out their 
days in silent martyrdom, forgiving seventy and 
seven times the wayward husband, and by 
gracious, charitable deeds, purged their souls 
of hate to the offender and the unoffending 
world. Yet her sins are covered because she 
fretted her hair white and her heart to stone, 


8 


IONE. 


and mine are magnified because of heredity and 
early environments. 

If your heroine had been robbed of wealth — 
and left in penury and want, through contact 
with humanity and sympathy in her struggle for 
bread, — she might either have let pity be- 
get a tenderer sentiment, or yielded to the 
temptation to destroy herself. Ah, Ulpian 
Grey ; surely you have proven yourself but a 
man ! 

Some day you shall yet welcome the ‘low- 
born miller’s daughter, to your heart, — till 
then farewell, my hero — my King ! 

“ O Sister ; sister Salome ! Come quickly and 
hear what Robert says ! ” 

Jessie’s voice more than her words startled 
Salome, and with a quickened pace she bounded 
up the terrace, where stood the servant who had 
driven Dr. Grey’s carriage. His look betrayed 
his emotion. 

“ What is it, Robert ? Is your master hurt ? ” 
Salome demanded in a husky voice. 

“A runaway team, ma’am, with a loaded 
wagon, upset our carriage and the doctor is un- 
conscious ; but the driver thinks he is not seri- 
ously hurt.” 

“ Where ! — speak quick — take me to him ! 
God of heaven save him if only until I reach 


IONE. 


9 


him and receive his dying blessing ! ” wailed 
Salome. 

With a thoughtfulness, foreign to her nature, 
she flew to the closet for drugs, and gathered 
several vials she knew contained restoratives. 
These she handed to Robert, that she might in 
no wise be impeded in her haste. But not un- 
til they had come to the gate at the end of the 
lawn, did she realize her inability to reach the 
injured man quickly, so she bade the servant take 
her hand and, with superhuman agility, mounted 
behind him on the back of the carriage horse. 

“Now- fly,” she cried, “fora life worth all 
ours hangs in the balance ! Gracious Heavenly 
Father, spare that which to us is so valuable ! ” 
In her sorrow she attributed only perfection — • 
forgetting the imperfections of which she had 
accused him only a short while before. Growing 
impatient, she asked : “ How far is it, Robert?” 

“Just at the foot of the steep hill half way to 
the depot,” he replied. She knew the place 
was one half mile from her home, and scan- 
ning the objects that whirled by them in their 
rapid flight she rejoiced that the distance was 
nearly passed. 

Only a few seconds more that seemed an in- 
terminable age, and she leaped from the horse, 
beside the prostrate form of her heart’s idol. He 


io ionE. 

was still unconscious and his breathing so 
imperceptible that she feared death had already 
claimed him. 

Snatching the restoratives from Robert’s 
hands, she frantically applied them, and with 
her soft hands bathed the sufferer’s face and 
pulse, but with an impatience born of wild 
anxiety, she sat down and gently placed his 
head upon her knee, hoping thus to produce 
perceptible respiration. Failing in this, she 
placed her lips to his as a last resource, and 
blew her own warm breath into his lungs, 
producing a deep sigh followed by labored, 
irregular breathing. 

“ Go for my carriage, Robert, and you,” speak, 
ing to the man whose team had done the irre- 
parable damage, “go for Dr. Sheldon and bring 
him here, for I cannot take the risk of moving 
him without a doctor’s aid and advice.” 

She beheld not the hand in the divine fate 
that placed in her own arms her darling, for all 
other feelings were stifled by the predominating 
fear that death would snatch him from her 
life. Looking at the placid features, her heart 
melted and she imprinted one long, passionate 
kiss on his lips. 

Her deed admitted of no animadversion, for 
it was only the claiming of that which right- 


IONE. 


II 


fully belonged to her. God had intersected 
their lives, and her soul was truly weded to his 
if not his to hers, 

“ It is not so with Him who all things knows, 

As ’tis with us that square our guess by shows, 

But most it is presumption in us when 

The help of heaven we count the act of men.” 

Her strained position was at last relieved 
by the doctor’s arrival, who hastily made a 
partial examination and found the right arm 
and leg broken. He ordered a cot, and without 
waiting for Salome’s wish in the matter, ordered 
the injured man carried to her home. 

Her heart gave one bound of thankfulness* 
She would now, at least, be permitted to see 
and wait on him while life lasted, for she had 
not yet entertained one single hope of recovery. 

“The means that Heaven yealds must be embraced, 

And not neglected ; else, if Heaven would 
And we would not, Heaven’s offer we refuse, 

The proffered mean* of succour and redress.” 

Salome rapidly proceeded the party and had 
in readiness her spare bedchamber. The tall 
brugmansia plant in the deep bow window had 
not yet ceased to emit the peculiarly fragrant 
odor that, like many souls, it took the darkness 
of life to produce. Restful pictures of land- 


12 


IONE. 


scapes and domestic life adorned the walls, and 
directly o’er the bed was one of Christ raising 
Jairiu’s daughter. 

From the moment of Dr. Sheldon’s arrival, 
Salome’s lips had been sealed, but now, they 
had arrived at her home and she must give 
directions. With superhuman strength she, 
without scarcely an order from the physician, 
prepared bandages, — helped saturate them 
with plaster, — and surprised Dr. Sheldon by 
offering to watch the patient’s pulse while he 
and the men proceeded to set the broken limbs. 

A small opiate was administered, for already 
unconsciousness rendered unnecessary a very 
large dose. When through with this painful 
task, the doctor bade her swallow a mixture, 
that he knew, by the tensely drawn muscles of 
her face, she would be compelled to have. 

“ How long before we will know the worst, 
Dr. Sheldon ! ” Salome asked. 

“ I cannot say, child, but I hope early in the 
forenoon or at least by noon. Do not look so 
haggard, Salome, I hope there is nothing serious ; 
if only the broken limbs, he will regain cons- 
ciousness when the nervous shock subsides.” 
Then turning to the servant, he continued : 
“ Robert, take this to the station, it is a tele- 
gram for a competent male nurse, and until his 


IONE. 


*3 


arrival, Salome, I will stay with you. Have you 
no friends you can ask to help you ? ” 

“ Mr. Granville and his wife have gone on 
their bridal tour, Miss Dexter left for Cuba 
yesterday and I have not sufficient claims on 
any one else,” replied Salome. “But doctor, 
with the male servants I need no other help, 
for I would not, and could not leave him until 
all is over or — ” 

“ Do not be so despondent, Salome. I tell 
you I do not think his injuries are serious.” 

For the first time since their return she now 
heard Jessie’s crying in another room and 
hastened to her. Fearing the noise might dis- 
turb the patient should consciousness return, 
she consoled and calmed the child as best she 
could, but dreading Jessie’s inability to remain 
quiet if the worst came, she sent her for a long 
stroll with the house-maid. Then kneeling be- 
side the empty little bed, Salome poured out her 
broken spirit in earnest prayer to God. 

“Only spare him, Heavenly Father, and I 
will be wholly subservient to Thy will concern- 
ing me. I ask not that his heart be mine, but 
pray Thy forgiveness for my resolve of a few 
hours ago, and offer myself, soul and body, a 
living sacrifice upon Thy altar. Make of me 
what Thou wilt.” 


CHAPTER II. 


ROM the time that Joseph was sold 
into Egypt, Jacob’s troubles multi- 
plied, until God in his own way and 
time stayed the tide, and his many 
sorrows proved only sources of great joy. Afflic- 
tions seemingly multiply until we can no longer 
see our path and we must walk by faith ; but 
when God sees our humility, with one stroke 
he clears our way and all is bright. When 
the cup is so bitter that we cannot look up to 
him while draining the dregs, He will, ere 
it is too late, allow a pleasant draught to drown, 
somewhat, the bitterness of the first cup. 
Salome returned to the sick-room with holy 
resignation plainly visible on every feature. 
As she entered the room the patient opened his 
eyes, and after a momentary glance around the 
room, demanded of Dr. Sheldon : “ What has 

happened ? ” 

“ Only a runaway team upset your carriage 
and somewhat misused you.” 



*4 


IONE. 


*5 


“ How serious are my injuries, doctor? ” 

“ A broken leg and arm ascertained so far ; I 
do not think there are any internal injuries how- 
ever, but I will soon make a thorough examina- 
tion.” 

Salome was kneeling by the bed in mute 
sympathy. The patient, glancing upward, 
softly repeated a few lines of one of Wesley’s 
hymns. 


“ ‘ Thee will I love, my joy my crown, 

Thee will I love, my Lord my God ; 

Thee will I love beneath Thy frown 
Or smile, Thy sceptre or Thy rod/ ” 

Salome stroked the damp hair from his fore- 
head, touched her lips to his fingers, then arose 
and left the room with a mute sympathy that be- 
spoke more than all the vocabulary of the English 
language could have done. Shortly after, she 
was summoned to return to the sick-room and 
as she approached Dr. Sheldon, he said : 

“ I think he has no other wound, Salome, so 
now I will leave him in your care while I visit 
my other patients, but will promise to return by 
middle forenoon. Follow out these written 
directions and we shall hope within a few days 
to see our dear friend safely on the road to 
recovery.” Then turning to the sufferer, he 


i6 


IONE. 


continued, “ I forbid you to talk, Dr. Grey, and 
also forbid this nurse, who has proven herself 
so highly capacitated in an emergency, talking 
very much to you. Perfect quiet with as much 
sleep as possible is what I desire. ,, 

They re-arranged his pillows, then Salome 
retired to a corner in the bow window out of 
view and, after Dr. Grey had closed his eyes 
with a strong inclination to sleep, Dr. Sheldon 
softly left the room, entered his buggy and 
drove hastily away. 

Truly “ we know not what a day may bring 
forth.’’ By the physical suffering of Dr. Grey, 
Salome’s latent soul powers were awakened, and 
for the first time in her life, brought into full 
subjection to their creator. The spiritual beauty 
that rendered one of Robert Underwood’s 
“ Blossoms of the Soul” enveloped her. 

“ Thou half unfolded flower 

With fragrance laden heart, 

What is the secret power 

That doth the petals part ? 

* * 

Thou wonder-wakened soul ! 

As dawn doth steal on night.” 

Dr. Sheldon returned at the stated hour and 
found his patient sleeping quietly. Salome met 
him at the door, and suggested that they hold a 
consultation in the room opposite. The doctor 


IONE. 


1 7 

gazed at her as she grasped his extended hand, 
and wondered that sorrow had so transformed 
her. The beautiful, statue-like woman had be- 
come almost angelic in appearance. The lovely 
eyes were melting with an expression, an 
emotion, he did not understand. The hauteur 
that had always characterized her had given 
place to gentleness of manner surpassing any- 
thing he had yet found in woman. 

With a look that would brook no denial she 
said : “ Tell me all, Dr. Sheldon. With God’s 
grace I believe I can stand the worst.” 

“ Has he slept naturally, with no sign of 
stupor ? ” 

“ Yes,” Salome replied, “ his sleep seemed 
natural and refreshing. He awakened several 
times and was perfectly rational, asking for 
water and refreshments of some kind, but I did 
not give him anything but the water.” 

“ That is good. Have ready for him some of 
the nice broth you used to make for Miss Jane 
with your own little hands. The worst to dread, 
Salome, is paralysis of the spinal chord, thus 
bringing on a stupor that will end in death. 
After thirty-six hours the danger to the nervous 
system will have passed, and then doubtless all 
danger to life will be over. But the long 
wearisome days of confinement, to him who has 


i8 


IONE. 


always led such an active life, will be hard 
indeed.’’ 

“ Ah,” thought Salome, “ if it were only I 
who had to suffer I would be willing to bear the 
worst to have his loved form in sight, but it 
will be trying to witness his suffering and know 
he would rather be elsewhere.” 

With velvety tread they returned to the sick 
chamber to be greeted by a smile from Dr. 
Grey. 

“ Bravo ! How do I find you, old fellow ? ” 
said Dr. Sheldon. 

“ Resting easy, my dear friend, but longing 
for something to satisfy the inner man.” 

With that, Salome left the room and soon 
returned, bearing on a beautiful gold lined 
waiter that he himself had presented her, a bowl 
of the nourishment Dr. Sheldon had ordered. 

“You will have to feed him until his nurse 
arrives, Salome,” said Dr. Sheldon, but she had 
already placed the waiter near him and was 
arranging the napkin under his chin, and with 
the dexterity of a trained nurse, she gave him 
from a spoon the contents of the bowl. 

With a thankful, appreciative smile, he said 
as she removed the napkin : “ I did not know 
my ‘ little wayward girl’ was such an efficient 
nurse. ” The soulful eyes of the newly awakened 


IONE. 


*9 


woman met his and an expression of wonder 
flitted over his face. “ Ah,” thought he, “ how 
truly beautiful she is. So competent to do 
good if she was not so selfish.” 

Night came on and the nine o’clock train 
brought the male nurse, but neither Dr. Sheldon 
or Salome ceased their vigil until the sun had 
mounted high the eastern horizon ; then Dr. 
Sheldon left to visit his other patients, but 
Salome remained near the bed and noted the 
movement of every feature and the beatings of 
his pulse. “ Only this day over and the danger 
will be passed,” she thought. 

Once he slept long and soundly, and becom- 
ing over-ruled by her fears she moved his 
pillow and awakened him. Again at mid-after- 
noon, he had slept restfully for two hours. She 
stroked the palm of his uninjured hand as she 
felt his pulse, but to no avail. 

The sleep seemed deep, his breathing long 
and difficult. Restlessly she paced the room 
for several minutes, then returned to his bed- 
side and made various futile attemps to awaken 
him. Finding low tones of no avail she placed 
her hands on each cheek, patting and rubbing 
them at first gently and then briskly, she called 
in plaintive tones that we so often hear over the 
loved ones slipping from our grasp. 


20 


IONE. 


“ Dr. Grey ! Oh, Dr. Grey, your ‘ little friend ’ 
wants you. Wake up!” Becoming frantic, she 
pressed her face to his. In so doing she touched 
his broken arm and the pain did that for her 
which loving words and caresses had failed to 
do. Opening his eyes he perceived her emotion, 
and said, in soothing tones : 

“ I am better, Salome, do not become alarmed.” 
With that, she went into a long swoon and but 
for Dr. Sheldon’s timely arrival, the nurse and 
servants would have had an intricate job. 

Dr. Sheldon soon restored her to conscious- 
ness, and Dr. Grey bade him escort her to her 
room and see that she retired and seek a much 
needed rest. Again he was forced to give her 
an opiate, and in no surer way could he make 
her compose herself than by threatening to 
remain with her instead of Dr. Grey, if she did 
not quiet herself and endeavor to sleep. 

“ Go back to him, Dr. Sheldon, I will try to 
get some rest. You know the danger is not 
over yet.” 

“Yes, Salome, the crisis is past. His symp- 
toms are good and they would not be if the 
dreaded end was approaching. Be quiet now, 
for all your strength will be needed to nurse and 
control him for the next sixty days. My ex- 
perience has been that the strongest, bravest 


10NE. 


21 


men, to assist others, succumb most completely 
to any physical pain. Yes, Salome, he will prove 
a veritable child on your hands. Rest now, for 
you must sit with him to-morrow and relieve 
the nurse.” With this, he closed the door, but 
she could not close her eyes until she heard the 
doctor assure the nurse that the danger was 
past and that the patient was resting quietly. 



CHAPTER III. 


T seems that Jessie, her brother and 
the house-keeping require a good 
deal of your time, now, Salome, 
you have only been with me long 
enough to serve my meals to-day, and the re- 
mainder of the time I have employed star- 
ing at the wall or watching nurse fidget around 
to keep himself awake.” 

Salome smiled to herself at the approaching 
symptons Dr. Sheldon had prophecied, but 
secretly envied not the angels, or thought theirs 
a higher estate. 

“ Now I can give you the afternoon. What 
will you have me do for you ? ” 

“ I have read my daily papers,” Dr. Grey an- 
swered, “ go to the library, get a volume of Pope 
and read me his ‘ Essay on Man.’ ” 

“ No, that is rather gloomy,” Salome respond- 
ed. “ Let me read you ‘ I. K. Marvel’s Reveries 
of a Batchelor.’ ” 

“As you like,” Dr. Grey replied, “ I suppose 



TONE. 


2 3 


neither will succeed in cheering me up very 
much.” 

She did not argue with him but began read- 
ing some light passages and soon had his 
thoughts off himself. Then she picked up 
Owen Meredith’s “ Lucille,” and read until she 
showed signs of weariness. 

“ Put down the book, Salome, and talk to me. 
I notice, my Alma Mater, the grand old 
battle-ship, the Oregon, sailed from Hong ICong 
for Manilla yesterday. I had my heart so set 
on joining them at the latter place. I think I 
am chafing under the disappointment more than 
from my suffering and confinement.” 

‘ “Yes, but sometime 

We shall see how, while we frown and sigh 
God’s plans go on as best for you and me, 

How, when we called, He heeded not out cry 
Because His wisdom to the end could see. 

“ Then be content, poor heart, 

God’s plans like lillies, pure and white unfold : 

We must not tear the close shut leaves apart : 

Time will reveal the calyxes of gold.’ 

“Thank you, Salome,” said Dr. Grey, 
“ your words are very consoling. The former 
pupil will have to become teacher if this weak- 
ness continues for many days. Did you not 
receive a copy of the 1 World’s Congress of Re- 


24 


TONE. 


ligions,’ yesterday? Do you read and approve 
of that Congress ? ” 

“ Yes, if our Christian religion upon compar- 
ison does not far excel them all, then indeeed are 
we a deluded people. Francis Williard tells us 
that she finds some good in every faith ; even 
the brotherly help in the much condemned The- 
osophite’s life, might be imitated by many un- 
charitable Christians. What man or body of 
men, is so intellectually compendious, she says, 
‘ as to be able to epitomize life, or where is the 
institution or human order so comprehensive as 
to manifest more than a fragment of its mean* 
ing? And when we take account of the wide 
variety of circumstances in which men are 
born, and the infinitely different experiences 
through which they pass from birth to maturity, 
we see how reasonable it is to expect an equal 
variety in their stock of notions as well as in 
their mental and moral constitutions. So that 
it appears quite in the nature of things to look 
for a state of religious life wherein the principle 
of variety, which has already overrated by sub- 
stituting many creeds for one creed, will ulti- 
mately displace the creed altogether as a 
unifying element. When this takes place, the 
churches will no longer be institutions for per- 
fecting men by making them all think alike, but 


IONE. 


2 5 


they will exist as brotherhoods with different 
external features, all inspired, according to 
their several capacities, with high social affection, 
and intense spiritual life. ,,, 

“You mean ’isms and not creeds, Salome,” 
interrupted Dr. Grey. 

“ ‘ Thirty-nine articles of belief,’ ” continued 
Salome, “ ‘ of the most tremendous significance 
can be passed through the mind as a sieve, 
leaving scarcely a grain of consciousness behind, 
but any act of generosity or heroism done in 
the sight of the humblest person, fills him with 
a larger sense of existence ; and the sorrow that 
casts its shadow upon the human soul is certain 
to draw some other heart in to share the gloom 
and brighten it with the power of sympathy. 
Can we,, then, be wrong in thinking that the 
secret of a true religious life lies, not in trying 
to bring our beliefs about the temporal and 
eternal into line with those of the men who 
gave the churches their creeds, but is found 
in the widest reading of the experience of all 
time ; in contact with, not undue subjection 
to, the best minds ; in admitting to the affec- 
tions the sweet attractions of the purest ex- 
amples ; and, above all these, in the inspiration 
which quickens the soul with the consciousness 
of a Greater Soul whom men call God.’ ” 


26 


TONE. 


“ It really seems you are getting sacreligious, 
to the extent of almost denying the divinity of 
Christ,” answered Dr. Grey. 

“ Indeed I am not. Upon questioning a Jewish 
friend not long ago, upon the acceptance of our 
Saviour, she replied: ‘Your Saviour is not 
sufficient. He does not save you from your- 
selves, we are looking for a Christ that will 
more firmly unite us by love than yours has ; 
so not the progress of the church but our daily 
life must win souls to Christ. 

“‘It would be irrational to urge, that because 
acts of private devotion and the public services 
of the churches are not invariably what they 
are intended to be, should be given up. Yet 
perhaps with greater adaptability to changing 
circumstances and needs, they might have more 
spontaneity and truer unction. It is not to be 
forgotten that the real function of public worship 
lies in its collective and social ends. 

“‘The weak and infirm may resort to the house 
of God for the satisfying of their individual 
needs, and I fear that such attempts as you 
advocate can only result in rapid sentimentalism, 
and in substituting for practical regenerative 
effort, an optimistic living in reverie. 

“‘The danger is there, we admit, but one simple 
expedient is ever at hand, for avoiding an 


TONE. 


27 


eneroated religion. This is to be instant on 
principle in responding to the duty that lies 
nearest ; and there is one complete answer to 
the suspicion of an overleaping ambition. This 
is in the thought of the man who measures his 
ideal by the consequences which are expected 
to follow its embodiment, so as to determine if 
it has promise of keeping the life at the level of 
free, intelligent and deeply earnest movement. 
The motive of the life pictured, is enlargement 
not dissipation of religious force. What we 
want embodied in our every day life, are those 
ideas of the spiritual which most religious 
people only suffer to exist in the region of their 
imagination. A religion that is not a mere haze 
of negational feelings ; but one that has positive 
aims, only they are not fossilized objects of 
textual definition, one with living elements of 
consciousness, — a consciousness that is too 
various and potential to admit of minute or 
fixed descriptions. Indeed it is as man is, in 
his whole nature, not a mechanism, but a growth, 
urged constantly to a fuller unfolding by the 
divine principle that pervades the universe.’” 

Dr. Grey gazed at her in astonishment. 
Thinking it best to change the tenor of her 
thoughts he said. 

“ Salome, how are the children at the orphan 


28 


TONE. 


age, and how are all my old friends ? Upon 
reflection, none of them have visited me since 
my confinement.” 

“Indeed,” replied Salome, “they make daily 
and hourly inquiries of your condition. It has 
not been one of my least duties re-assuring them. 
I do not need their assistance, nor do I want 
them to disturb you. As to the children at the 
orphanage, they are all well except the few who 
have the measles.” 

“ And you would like to be with them, Salome, 
andwould be but for this trying patient of yours.” 

Salome’s quick glance eagerly sought his face. 
Did he not realize she was in her seventh 
heaven ? A few months ago all the children in 
the universe could have died of any contagion 
and she would have been happy in her present 
position but a fuller awakening had come to her 
and self with this much coveted possession, — 
his presence — was somewhat lost in her desire 
to serve humanity. 

“ No, they do not need me,” she said, the 
Directress manages them so nicely.” 

“ Do not refuse my neighbors permission to 
see me, Salome, I am strong enough.” 

<4 "We will let Dr. Sheldon decide that,” she 
replied, “ now my patient must have his medi- 
cine and rest.” 


IONE. 


2 9 


As the nurse prepared the mixture, she placed 
her hands under Dr. Grey’s pillow and gently 
raised his head to enable him to swallow the 
spoonful she held to his lips. In re-arranging 
his pillows her hand touched his cheek, and she 
felt there was a flush on her face she would have 
given worlds to hide. She thought, 

“ How will drag the hours when, love, thou art not by ! 

In vain my mind upon my task is set, 

All, all in vain $ I cannot thee forget ; 

My thoughts to thee as swallows homeward fly." 

“ Go and sing for me, Salome, I am anxious 
to hear you once more.” 

“ What shall I sing ? ” she asked. 

“Your own selection,” replied Dr. Grey. 
“ The hungry man is never so fastidious in his 
choice of viands.” 

Softly, sweetly she touched the notes of the 
piano, and Murray’s song, “As pants The 
Wearied Hart,” gently floated into his room 
from the parlor across the wide reception hall. 
Then as by inspiration, she sang “ Verdi’s II 
Trovatore.” 

“ * O, I have sighed to rest me 
Deep in the quiet shade,’ ” 

And as the rich, miraculous voice poured forth 
the plaintive notes, he sadly thought : 


3 ° 


IONE. 


“ Here now I stand, on life’s outer verge, 

Close at my feet an ocean wide and deep, 

Dark, sullen, silent, and without a surge, 

Where earth’s past myriads lie in dreamless sleep. 
’Tis here I stand without a thrill or fear, 

In loneliness allied to the sublime j 

The broken links of love that bound me here, 

Lie scattered on this treacherous shoal of time. 

But still I cling to friends who yet remain, 

Cling to the glorious scenes that round me lie. 

* * * * 

“ Idly I seek the future to explore, 

I partly know what is, but nought that is before.” 



CHAPTER IV. 



NE month had passed and Dr. Grey 
was able to be lifted to his chair for 
part every morning. He was more 
exacting of Salome’s time each day 
than the day before, because he . was “ so 
lonely,” he thought, and “ the child amused 
and diverted him.” 

If the soul of the man was awakened; caused 
to bud and bloom in the chilly atmosphere of 
solitude, was it not in danger of bringing forth 
fruit in the exhilarating presence of this radi- 
antly beautiful woman, despite the chilled and 
benumed condition, while in the icy clutches of 
fate that had befallen him ? 

He watched the door with a childish longing 
for her entrance and always waited to exchange 
a few words before even opening his mail. 

A live man, — wholy alive — cannot long be 
content with the emptiness of past dreams and 
dead hopes. 

In his thoughts he held the “dead love” as 
31 



3 2 


IONE. 


sacred as a holy shrine, and fancied the remem- 
brance of his lost idol was sufficient, but his 
warm, lonely heart cried out against the impo- 
sition. If she had taken advantage of his con- 
dition and forced her presence and attention on 
him, it would have disgusted him, but her pre- 
occupied air and intense interest in other people 
and things, awakened in him a faint streak of 
jealosy, as much as a nature so noble as his pos- 
sessed. 

He did not know of her offer of herself as a 
sacrifice upon the altar of duty for his recovery, 
but he knew that something had come over her, 
rendering ethereal the exquisiteness of her phy- 
sical beauty. On this morning, after the male 
servant lifted him to his invalid chair, she 
came noiselessly and seated herself by his 
side. After the attendants had gone to their 
breakfast, he reached for one of her hands and 
tenderly clasped it with his uninjured one. 

Salome bowed her head in mute sympathy, 
and placing his arm around her shoulders, he 
drew her head to his breast. 

“ My little sister,” he said affectionately, “is 
so patient with me ; so delicately attentive in all 
her ways. Forgive me, Salome, for all my harsh 
judgment of you in the past. If my own sister 
could have lived to see you now, she would 
have been doubly proud of her little girl.” 


IONE. 


33 


“The provocations were all mine,” Salome 
made reply. “To her dear self, to you and to a 
devine being I owe my all.” 

He pressed his cheek to her brow, fully under- 
standing by her last admission her complete 
control over self. 

Ah ! did he fancy complete control ? At this 
tempting moment she would have sold, “ Esau 
like, ,, her title to eternal bliss for the privilege 
of clasping his noble form in her arms and 
claiming the right to devote her life to him. 
But God had denied her this and she valiantly 
picked up life’s threads, hoping to, at least, be 
able to help humanity. 

She began breaking the seal of his letters 
and placing the open sheets before him. After 
re-reading one from New York, he handed it to 
her, and said : “ Salome, as this concerns you, 
I will submit it to you.” Glancing at the signa- 
ture she hastily read the following : 

My Dear Ulpian : — “ New York, 189-. 

I see by the papers you are suffering from broken limbs. 
I was greatly distressed in hearing of your painful accident, but 
feel thankful to know you are on the road to recovery. I am 
just back from an evangelical tour of Scotland, and while in — 
I met the teacher of your sister’s ward, Miss Owen, who never 
tires of singing the praises of her voice. He knew of its failing 
her in a trying moment, but said he felt assured she had, e’re 
this regained it. 


34 


IONE. 


I am in need of a consecrated singer for my services and to 
such an one as God has blessed with power, the field is as broad 
for accomplishing good, as to the minister himself. He told me 
of her thwarted ambitions and your opposition to her chosen pro- 
fession, the stage, but, my dear friend, I ask you to let her come 
and help me to win souls for Christ. The tour comprises many 
of the largest cities, and with God’s blessing we hope to do much 
good. My wife sings, and will take your ward directly under her 
charge in our travels. 

Awaiting a hasty reply, stating terms, etc., I am, 

Your Friend and Schoolmate, 

D. L. L.” 

Salome’s hands dropped into her lap and for a 
few moments she was speechless. Then she 
arose and paced the room for some time, but 
eventually returned and knelt beside her guard- 
ian. Still she found no utterance from her pent- 
up feelings until he tenderly placed his hands 
upon her head: then with brimming eyes, she 
said : 

“ My dearest friend, when you were hurt, I 
promised God that if He spared your life I 
would fully consecrate myself to His service. 
But I do not feel His hands leading me in this 
direction. Of course nothing is to be thought 
of until your complete recovery, but in searching 
myself, the only inducement to accept, I find is 
my dread of loneliness here, after your departure, 
and the temptation that this position offers me. 


IONE. 


35 


I find in this channel no opportunity to do the 
duty I feel God has assigned me.” 

“I know not the dictates of your conscience, 
Salome, or the guidings of the spirit in your 
life, but may God's richest blessings be yours, 
and may you be the same brave woman always, 
that you are today ; rendered stronger doubtless, 
by your self-will and impetuous, vehement mind 
which has left the fruit that right training always 
brings to such natures.” 

“ My home does not bind me here,” Salome 
replied, “ neither the orphanage or Jessie and 
Stanley. For the first, I can appoint a board 
of directors with an endowment fund, and my 
brother and sister I can place in a boarding 
school. But I am not needed to sing to the 
wealthy in beautiful tabernacles and churches, 
but to find the lonely waif, as I once was, and 
save, if only one. The prominence of your friend, 
Dr. D. L. L., is a temptation to a girl striving 
to gratify ambition, and a few weeks ago I 
would have found it difficult to decline. Now 
it is no temptation to me. I think I read in 
your face disapproval ; my dearest friend, for 
your recovery, I promised to obey a higher 
injunction, and not for your — yes, even your 
wish, can I do what I do not feel His love 
directs me to do.” 


36 


TONE. 


“ But, Salome, you may thus be enabled to 
reach even the lowest. You doubtless would 
find in this a richer harvest-field than elsewhere.” 

“ Yes,” she replied, “ but your friend will find 
plenty of sweet-voiced singers glad to accept a 
position in his quartette, but few will go out to 
work among the lowly in the by-ways and hedges. 
O, Dr. Grey ! this is not my choice but God’s 
decree. Give me your blessing.” 

“ Chid, you have it ! ” replied Dr. Grey, 
placing his hand upon her bowed head. “May 
He guard and guide you in all your under- 
takings.” 



CHAPTER V. 


N that beautiful Italian city, Florence ? 
— beyond which and near the east- 
ern wall, lies one of the sweetest 
views in the world : the ascending 
amphitheatre of hills, with the tall eminence 
of Hiesole in the center, crowned with the 
monastery in which Milton gathered scenery 
for his “ Paradise. ” Mr. and Mrs. Granville 
had decided to stop for a few weeks. They 
were staying at the beautiful palace, formally 
the archbishop’s, a noble old edifice with vast 
staircases and resounding arches, and a hall 
in which you might put any modern hotel. 

Muriel, as she followed with quick eyes the 
places of interest pointed out to her by the 
guide, found that from her window she could 
see the room occupied by the bard when writing 
his sweetest lays. She could count the panes 
of glass in his windows, and between their own 
place and this fine, old structure, on the slope 
of the hill, that was this morning bathed in a 



37 



38 


IONE. 


glorious sunshine seen nowhere else as in Italy, 
lie thirty or forty splendid villas half buried in 
trees, — among them Madame Catolina’s — piled 
one above another on the steep ascent, with 
their columns 'and porticos, as if they were 
mock temples in a vast terraced garden. 

Muriel was supremely happy during the 
first weeks of her honeymoon, but gradually 
she was beginning to realize the vapidness of 
Mr. Granville’s character, and but for the hope 
common to hopeful, trusting womanhood, she 
would have been completely miserable. But 
Crashaw says : “ Sweet hope ! Kind cheat ! ” 

and Franklin: “He that lives upon hope will 
die fasting.” 

Slowly but surely she was convinced of his 
proneness to a sporting life. At nearly every 
city, he had left her alone until the solemn hour 
of midnight, “visiting,” as he explained to her, 
the “ fashionable club-rooms ” of the city, but 
she noticed always when he returned, a restless 
look on his face that did not betoken the inter- 
vening hours well spent. And then, too, the 
amount they had set apart to cover their ex. 
penses, had already been doubled and their 
tour not half ended. She tried to console 
herself by thinking he was young, and she was 
doubly sure her love and care would soon cause 


IONE. 


39 


him to give up all such indulgencies. But — 

“ Thou shalt hear the ‘ never, never , ’ whispered 
by the phantom years. ** 

* * * 

“ Then a hand shall pass before thee, 

Pointing to his drunken sleep, 

To thy widowed marriage pillow, 

To the tears that thou wilt weep.” 

Occasionally, men who were known to have 
been profligates, have been reformed, but where 
both this evil and the greater deception is 
practiced, there is little hope. Carlisle was 
never more mistaken than when he said : “ Be- 
fore no slightest revelation of the God-like 
does man ever stand irreverant, especially when 
found in woman. Some natures are so ignoble 
that no high appeal can ever reach them. The 
effort to control them by magnanimous motives 
always fails.” 

Lonely to-night, Muriel paces her room ; 
the beautiful bridal chamber in an ancient 
castle. 

Wedded ! How empty the word. Ah ! 

Better thou wert dead before me ! 

If she could but pierce the long years, with their 
neglect, spurned love, reproach, abandement 
from him, with suspicion, calumny and the Phari- 
saical ostracism she will have to encounter from 


40 


IONE. 


the world, surely, she would succumb to this 
stifling that attacks her tonight. But again de- 
ceptive hope bids her dry her eyes, and every 
fibre of her being is strained to catch the sound 
of an approaching foot-step or tap at the door. 

At fifteen minutes past twelve, a heavy step 
is heard in the hall-way, but in it she does not 
recognize the light, quick tread of Gerard Gran- 
ville of a few months before. Upon his husky de- 
mands for admission, she opens the door and 
admits to her chamber an intoxicated man. 
Truly, the minister had pronounced them one, 
and this half of her was drunk, but the other 
half could not help itself and even if she had 
made no contract for any such condition, she 
would have to endure it. 

If the minister had asked her in the ceremony 
if she would promise to live with this other half, 
provided he made of himself a maniac, — for 
such, all drunken men are, — do you think she 
would have said yes ? But the phrase “ for 
better or worse ” is scarcely heard by the sub- 
jects at the altar of marriage, much less under- 
stood. No other partnership but that of life is 
entered into or made binding. 

Oh God, how supremely piteous is this condi- 
tion of the young wife when she first finds her- 
self in the clutches of an intoxicated man ! 


TONE. 


41 


But for the fact that her husband was hopelessly- 
drunk and soon snoring on a lovely silken divan, 
we would have to draw the curtain, but as he is 
too dead to see or hear us, for the benefit of our 
charity let us spend this one night with this 
beautifully arrayed bride. 

Take the lovely carnations from her hair, her 
hot, throbbing temples will wither them. Re- 
move the light airy dress and place something 
warm around her shoulders, for they are cold 
and clamy. Smooth back her hair and braid it 
for the night, her own trembling hands will not 
permit her to do it. Loose and draw off her 
gaiters and place upon her feet some soft warm 
slippers, for she cannot lie down and she must 
be kept warm. Don’t try to console her, you 
might do better offering solace to the victim 
who has missed heaven. Do not caress her, all 
kisses hence forward, to her, will be mockery. 
But stay with her because she has never been 
alone with a drunken man before. Stay with 
her because you whom fate has placed differ- 
ently need it, so that in act and word you will 
treat her with more consideration. 

At five o’clock, Mr. Granville awakened from 
his stupor to find his wife in a deep swoon on 
the Persian rug at the opposite side of the room 
from him. As he perceived her he started up, 


42 


IONE. 


passed his hands over his eyes in order to com- 
prehend the situation. With vividness, he re- 
membered the early hour of the night before, 
but after that all was oblivion. “ Ah, ” he 
thought, “ I have fallen at last ! In all other 
vices I have indulged but guarded myself so 
strenuously in regard to intoxicants.” 

He rushed to his wife’s side amid all these 
thoughts, lifted and bore her limp form to 
her bed. Then after vain efforts to restore 
her, called the servant and ordered a physician. 
Before the doctor arrived she had revived and 
went into nervous hysterics when she beheld 
Mr. Granville — himself again — nursing her so 
tenderly. 

“ You won’t do so any more, will you darling ?” 
she faltered, holding tightly to his hand. 

All sorts of promises were made, but when he 
sealed them with a kiss, she instinctively turned 
her head away from him. A surprised expres- 
sion on his face ended in a wrathful one, while 
he thought, “ I will bear any rebuke just now, I 
must get this matter quieted.” 

The doctor took in the situation at a glance 
and gave the patient an opiate, knowing that 
rest and sleep would somewhat restore her to 
her former self. 

Next morning found her able to rise, and al- 


IONE. 


43 


though they had planned to remain in Florence 
for several days, she prevailed upon him to con- 
tinue their sight-seeing in another country. 






CHAPTER VI. 


“ Ripling laughter, waves of perfume, 

Starry flowers, gleams of light ; 

Whispering breezes, flashing fountains, 

Song of birds, make day so bright.” 

UGENE Morris repeated these lines 
as he hastily strode across Madison 
Square park, New York city, to catch 
a car for “down town.” He was 
apparently thirty years of age, black hair and 
eyes, but complexion fair, bleached from inces- 
sant office work. He was above the medium 
height, robust — a veritable athlete in appear- 
ance — but with manners as refined and ways as 
gentle as a woman’s. His square cut chin de- 
noted vitality of life, his high broad forehead, 
mental capacity, and his open, expressive face, 
great integrity of character. 

“Ah,” thought he, “ how nature awakens and 
responds to any outside influence, but man, in 
God’s own image, hugs to his bosom the old, — 
be it sweet or bitter — loth to part with fami- 



IONE. 


45 


liar scenes though he knows the change will pro- 
duce grand results.” 

Eugene Morris was one of the law firm of 
Morris and Chilton, located in Greater New 
York. His partner was an older man, a noted 
criminal lawyer, but Morris preferred the civic 
practice. Success had abundantly crowned his 
efforts and to-day, at the age of thirty, he found 
himself a well-to-do man with a practice doubling 
itself in remuneration every year. 

Having to battle for an education, he found 
no time in early life for heart affairs, and find- 
ing himself insensible to the charms of woman 
at the age of twenty-four, he did not seek or care 
to enter society. He was wedded to and happy 
in his profession. 

At his partner’s home he sometimes attended 
dinners and receptions, but always at such times, 
felt flattered by the attentions shown him by 
both Mrs. Chilton and her beautiful daughter, 
lone. They could not penetrate his reserve, 
however, and if Miss Chilton had designs on 
his heart, she found it hard to execute them. 
That man has a liberal education who has 
been so trained in youth that his body is the 
ready servant of his will, and does with ease 
and pleasure all the work that, as a mechanism, 
it is capable of ; whose intellect is a clear, cold, 


4 6 


IONE. 


logical engine, with all its parts of equal strength 
and in smooth working order. Such was Eugene 
Morris, but how long he will stand we shall see. 

One evening in June he attended an unusually 
large reception at the Chilton’s. As he drove 
down Broadway he felt alone in the world, and 
once inside the capacious, elegant home of his 
host, among the guests who looked so happy, he 
felt indeed homeless. After greetings were 
over, he passed down the line with the throng 
and soon found himself seated in a distant 
corner. 

“Ah! Mr. Morris,” exclaimed lone, pouncing 
upon him, “ you are the very picture of misery. 
Come with me and meet some, or many, of 
these delightful people.” 

He accompanied her through the rooms, 
bowing and returning salutations until he felt 
tired of it all, and suggested \o lone, very much 
to her delight, that they “ visit the conservatory.” 
While there, a lady and her partner passed 
them and the tired, troubled, worried look that 
she gave expression to, as soon as she felt 
screened by the tropical plants, attracted his 
attention, and he asked lone who “they were.” 

“ O that is Mr. Granville and his bride just 
back from their wedding tour of the East. Were 
gone two months — such a delightful trip I 


IONE. 


47 


know — I think them such an ideal couple. 
He is several years her senior, but that is only 
the better. I heard her guardian, — she was an 
orphan, you know — opposed her marrying so 
young but I think he did right by eventually 
acceeding to their wishes, for I am sure she could 
never have made a more commendable choice.” 

Eugene, with his keen intellect and deep, prac- 
tical insight into human nature, did not reply for 
a few moments. No such expession as he saw 
on Mrs. Granville’s face ever came over that 
of a happy bride. At length he asked : 

“ How old is Mr. Granville ? ” 

“About thirty, I suppose,” answered his com- 
panion. 

“ And his wife, how old is she ? ” 

“ She is only eighteen, I believe.” 

“ And do you consider her old enough to as- 
sume the solemn responsibilities of a wife P ” in- 
quired Mr. Morris. 

“ Certainly,” replied lone, “she is two years 
older than my mother was when she married 
father.” 

If she could have known his thoughts just then, 
a climax in their friendship would have been 
reached, for he was wondering if a stronger 
mother could not have bequeathed to this 
daughter less frivolity. 


4 8 


IONE. 


“ Do you oppose early marriages, Mr. Morris ? 
At what age do you consider a young lady mar- 
riageable ? ” 

“ That depends upon the young lady herself,” 
he replied, “ maturity in mind, body and affec- 
tions, being attained by some much earlier than 
others. I notice a great deal is being said by 
the press in regard to a certain lady and Dr- 
J — ’s plan for forcing all men over thirty-five 
to marry. Not more, but fewer and better 
marriages are needed. I would not force anyone 
to take this solemn obligation, but ask law- 
makers to, in some way, restrain the vicious and 
ignorant, from meaningless assumption of the 
holy bonds of wedlock. 

Have an educational statue requiring all appli- 
cants to comply with certain rules in regard to 
health and education, with a distinct knowledge 
of the demands to be made upon them in the 
special walks in life they will be called upon to 
fill. Nothing short of universal compulsory 
education will accomplish it, with conscientious, 
earnest law-makers to enforce it.” 

“ You would take all the romance out of life, 
Mr. Morris.” 

“ Indeed I would not,” he quickly replied, 
“ the fatal effects of the largely prevailing igno- 
rance of the seriousness of life, soon robs it of 


IONE. 


49 


the roseate hue, with no foundation for the ten- 
der sentiment to be recolored. ” 

“ Do you believe in marriage of short acquain- 
tance,” asked lone. 

“ Never ! ” Men and women should be 
independent of each other for a sustenance, 
which they will be when they are given equal 
advantages and privileges in addressing each 
other, for often, woman’s life is a ruinous 
failure because in no way, admissible to the 
present rules of society, can she reveal her 
feelings to the man she loves, and who 
would feel complimented and enough satisfied 
with her genuine worth, to be willing to form a 
life partnership with her. 

For such is the only true marriage. Not the 
petted, whimsical woman clinging to the man 
for the satisfaction of such whims, or the lordly 
supremacy of the man, because wrongly con- 
strued scripture has all these centuries given him 
such, but a healthy partnership, each finding in 
the other that which nature failed to give them 
in their own make-up, — her weaker physical self 
leaning upon him — while his, more inclined to 
err moral nature, finds in her a gently restrain- 
ing influence. 

When this reformation comes about, there will 
be no marriages for convenience, but only a 


5 ° 


IONE 


uniting of the two when life proves unbearable 
separated. ” 

lone saw in this man little chance for the 
frivolous society girl, seeking position and ease, 
and consequently turned her replies into sarcasm, 
ridiculing him for his extreme views and ended 
by asking permission to know the impossible 
divinity when he found her. 

“ Not impossible, Miss Chilton, I do not blame 
men and women for what they are, but censure 
environments. Neither are convicted of a weak- 
ness, but each have proven their ability to reach 
any given height.” 

Refreshments were announced and many eyes 
of admiration and inquiry were turned upon 
lone and her handsome, dignified partner as 
they led the way to the dining-room. 

The emptiness of her surroundings, for the 
first time in life, impressed her and she wished 
she had been given a more practical view of the 
“ fitness of the actors upon the vast stage.” 

“ Hence, vain deluding joy«, 

The blood of folly without father bred 
How little you bested, 

Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys. 

* * * 

“ Thou whose exterior semblance doth belie 
Thy soul’s immensity. 

* * * 

“ Thou over whom thy immortality 

Broods like the day, a Master o’er a slave, 

A presence which is not to be put by.” 


\ 


CHAPTER VII. 

OULD you like to drive over to 
Solitude this morning, Dr. Grey ? ” 
asked Salome, “ notwithstanding 
its owners are gone, the servants are 
there, and you will doubtless feel invigorated.” 

Salome had put the question to him in a sub- 
dued tone, and he hesitated before answering 
her. Then looking, seemingly beyond her, out 
upon the beautiful morning he replied : 

“ I do not know, Salome. Three months ago 
I bid farewell to all there, and launched my 
barque expecting to — the balance of my life — 
sail in different waters. But an omnipotent, all- 
wise Father has taken hold of the helm. I at 
first patiently submitted and now cheerfully 
abide His will.” 

“Your doctor thinks you able and recommends 
that you be in the open air a great deal,” Sal- 
ome answered. “ We will take nurse and he, 
with the driver, can assist you in and out of the 
carriage. Your wounds are so nicely healed, 



51 


52 


IONE. 


that you will get much benefit driving over the 
smooth roads, if we go slowly.” 

Glancing up at her face, did he detect any of 
the old self asserting authority ? If so, one 
pleading look from that pale, emaciated, noble 
countenance, thoroughly put it to shame and 
caused the newly awakened woman to view with 
much regret the feeling that deprivation and 
disappointment had engendered and fostered. 
But she wanted him to go and wanted to go 
with him. Her main object was to see how far 
she had conquered herself. 

She brought a light wrap for his shoulders and 
his broad shade hat, but did not offer to get his 
green glasses for, if possible, she wished to catch 
every fleeting expression of his face as he once 
more beheld the old walks around “ Solitude,” 
and the beautiful tomb of his lost love. 

He succeeded in getting into the carriage 
without pain, but from weakness and a sense of 
dizziness he ran his arm through hers to brace 
himself. As he neared the old, familiar grounds, 
he unclasped his hand from her arm, feeling it a 
sacrilege to touch any other woman in presence 
of the ashes of his loved one. The old bitter 
feeling did not take possession of Salome, but 
instead a yearning sympathy that in its betray- 
al to Dr. Grey’s penetrating eyes, enhanced in 
his estimation, her worth ten fold. 


IONE. 


53 


So long as no living woman could claim him, 
all was well. She was willing that he grieve 
for the dead. Hope could build a monument 
out of ashes, but live flesh and blood intercepted 
all chance of raising an edifice of her own. 

Then she probed her very soul with the try- 
ing question : “ Am I still hopeful of gaining 

his love ; or will I uncomplainingly assume the 
lot God has assigned me, — a busy laborer in the 
rich harvest fields ! ” The glorious reward of 
such a life she tried to think, fully repaid her 
for all sacrifice, but the woman’s heart would 
soon shrivel of very emptiness. 

Was Salome unnatural ? She had used any 
and all tactics to succeed, with a devotion so 
true that she was willing to suffer if only per- 
mitted a look, a word, or to wait upon him, the 
balance of her life \for all true love is servile. 

“ Open the gate, Robert, and drive to the 
Mausoleum. I shall not attempt to alight.” 

Salome knew this to be the trying moment. 
If after an absence of three months, he could 
calmly view the grave of his lost love, his heart 
was somewhat mastered. 

As they rounded the walks and came in view 
of the pile of masonry, Dr. Grey’s face took on 
an ashen hue, but no word escaped him. As 
the carriage stopped, Salome handed him a box, 


54 


IONE. 


containing lovely lillies and jasmins, to have the 
driver place upon the grave. 

Dr. Grey was surprised, and fully appreciated 
the effort the act had cost her, admiring the 
stern honesty that forbade her getting out of 
the carriage and placing them herself, for as she 
opened the box she said : “ See what lovely 
flowers these are. I thought you would like to 
place them upon her grave.” 

After the flowers were arranged and he had 
gazed wistfully and mournfully in every direc- 
tion, as if expecting his white-faced idol to 
beckon him from some dark shady nook, or wave 
her transparent hand to join her among the 
white crested waves that were chasing each 
other around the boat-house, he motioned 
Robert to drive on. 

Salome considered his thoughts too sacred to 
be interrupted, so neither spoke until her own 
lovely home and the steeples of the orphanage 
came in sight, and then only of the common- 
place things of the day. But after he was safely 
in his room and the nurse had retired, he said : 

“ My sister, you and the children are the only 
ties I have on earth. God has seen fit to so 
order it. I question not the decree. You are 
very, very dear to me, for in you I behold a per- 
petuation of my precious Jane’s well wrought 


tONE. 


55 


life work. Through your submission to God, 
I have witnessed with much joy your mastery 
over self ; but, Salome, more trying hours will 
come, old ambition will re-assert itself, you will 
be lonely, for you will find few congenial natures. 
But you shall have my prayers and with your 
own, God’s strength will never fail you. I 
would have preferred you going with the evan- 
gelist, for he would have directed and shielded 
you, but it is best for you to obey the dictations 
of your own conscience. I shall join a party in 
the Adirondacks next month, if I continue to 
improve, and we shall both miss our sympa- 
thetic confidential talks. 

Mr. Granville and wife are back in New York 
for the summer. Miss Dexter, despite the ex- 
citing scenes of the revolution in Cuba, conti- 
nues to improve, and I must hasten to get well, 
and rejoin my fleet as it reaches the Western 
Coast. 

If Miss Dexter ever returns, I wish her to 
have “ Solitude,” and will forward her the deeds. 
Doubtless Muriel and Gerard will join her there 
for a part of each year. At Miss Dexter’s death 
the property goes to the orphanage. My old 
home I will leave with your older brothers. 
Lease the land and give them four years in 
school. Give Jessie and Stanley a collegiate 


5 6 


TONE. 


education, as you have commenced with them 
so young, and if Stanley continues the inclina- 
tion he now shows for the profession, I would 
feel complimented if you made of him a physi- 
cian. 

Write me long letters, Salome, and tell me all 
your plans. I cannot say now, as a little while 
ago, that I would be glad to know that you had 
given your heart to some good man. Very few 
natures are as strong as yours, and you would 
be unhappy without at least your equal. That 
which weighs heaviest on my mind, is no incli- 
nation on your part, to attach yourself to any 
church. 

Of course I would be glad to have you choose 
the church of my ancestors, but yours is a 
nature most useful left free to follow your own 
inclination in Christ.” 

“ I believe I shall be most useful as I am,” 
answered Salome, “ letting sects and schisms 
alone for people who can lind no Christian work 
to do.” 

“You are mistaken. Organized churches and 
the assembling ourselves together, are Christ’s 
most direct teaching.” 

“ But in all he advises moderation,” Salome 
answered impulsively. “ The things of benefit 
to fellow man are overlooked or discarded in 


IONE. 


57 


this mad rush for show and excitement. Their 
own beliefs are a measure for every man’s faith, 
and by priest and laymen, his right and juris- 
diction is bought with ‘ Ceaser’s own.’ Some 
of them are fast becoming a papacy, clearly 
short of the ‘ infallability of the Pope,’ and 
from the ‘ sublime to the ridiculous.’ I have no 
desire to have what God graciously permits me 
to do, eulogized by church papers as done by 
the wife of some notable, or the relict of some 
departed great man. I cannot draw the line 
between that and some useful man’s tombstone 
recording his life as the husband of some socie- 
ty leader.” 

A smile flitted across Dr. Grey’s face as he 
remembered reading such an obituary notice a 
few days since. He had never appreciated the 
similitude before. 

“ If I should give you ten thousand dollars, 
Salome, what would you do with it ? ” he asked. 

With the honesty and joyousness of a child, 
she exclaimed: “I would build an industrial 
school for boys.” 

“ Then I shall give you the “ Old Home- 
stead,” and also, equal in money, all state and 
individual donations that you can secure.” 

Salome clasped his uninjured hand in both 
her own and covered it with kisses, but he with- 


tONfi. 


5 ^ 

drew it in a hesitating manner and said : “ If 

you repay all donors in a like way, I fear you 
will frighten some and attract whole droves of 
bachelors.” 

Unconscious of his little rebuke, she replied: 

“ You dear soul ! How did you detect my 
heart’s wishes ? Did I not tell you of that sub- 
tle power ‘ spiritual telegraphy ’ that influences 
and aids us in divining the minds of others ? 
Doubtless after I had entertained these thoughts 
all day and had sunk in a dreamy slumber, they 
were transmitted to you, and for hours you were 
kept awake, listening to the clicking of the spi- 
ritual telegraph operator ; just what or whom 
we do not know, probably some departed loved 
one. And now the grandest aim of my life, that 
I had kept so secret, has been revealed to you, 
and by your noble, generous self made possible.” 
Salome kissed his hand again and again while 
the warm tears of gratitude blurred her eyes. 

“ I have realized for many years this much 
needed reform,” answered Dr. Grey, “ but 
failed to execute the inspiration. ‘ The Miller’s 
daughter ’ will yet prove a polished instrument 
to carry out the work I have so much wanted 
done. Ambition dictated the adjustment of 
matters many years to suit personal ends. Gage 
says, ‘ life once awakened spiritually to the ac- 


IONE. 


59 


quaintance of its higher self, solves the theory 
of divine leading. The personality, having only 
a limited range of vision, seeks to order all 
things according to its will. The spiritual has 
a clearer and larger outlook. 

It comprehends at once the great purpose of 
life, and adjusts itself accordingly. It perceives 
the confusion of the plans and desires of the 
personality, which, seeing so little of the great 
design, makes many needless mistakes. It sees 
that, rather than compel matters to do its bid- 
ding, all that is necessary is to open itself to the 
instruction of life, the great teacher ; that its 
one end is to unfold ; that this must be con- 
scious ; that it can only unfold through service, 
and can only get by giving. It finds its happi- 
ness in simply being. It sees that all is well ; 
that sorrow, sickness, and poverty are merely 
bug-a-boo’s to intimidate the personal. It re- 
joices in the universal truth, beauty, and good- 
ness.’ 

All this, Salome, he says, ‘ is characteristic 
of the higher nature. It is like an upper parlor 
that is kept closed and darkened. It is the 
privilege of all to live in this beautiful place, 
with its luxurious appointments and clear, ex- 
tensive out-look, or to dwell in the crowded, 
musty basement where so many spend their 
lives,’ 


6o 


IONE. 


Further, he says, ‘ when we realize this, what 
shall we think of the conflict of life ? We de- 
monstrate our power as forcibly in disease and 
unpleasant surroundings as in health and 
opulence, for in the former instance, we use our 
power blindly ; in the latter, wisely. We can 
never truly live until we come out of the dense 
cloud of ignorance in which we have been intel- 
lectually buried. We have but to make the 
decision and we find ourselves free to enter to 
limitless garden of Eden.’ Natural law, in the 
Spiritual world clearly demonstrated. As hi- 
genic laws govern the natural, so faith, and pure 
living, the spiritual.” 

“ I fear our conversation has wearied my 
patient,” said Salome, “ let me arrange your 
lounge and read you to sleep.” 



CHAPTER VIII. 


NE by one the days had followed each 
other in quick succession until now 
the last had arrived, and Dr. Grey was 
to depart for New York on the mid- 
night train. 

Salome bid him good night at a late hour the 
previous evening and retired to her room not to 
sleep, but to seclude herself from all eyes save 
those of a sympathizing Heavenly Father. 

Added to the heat of the season, her aching 
heart made respiration difficult, so she threw 
wide open the tall french windows of her room 
and seated herself behind the crimson plush 
screen, made gayer by the strutting peacock 
and smaller domestic fowles painted by her own 
hands at a time when she had no less love and 
less hope than to-day. 

From this position no night promenader could 
see her as she gazed upon the beautiful moon- 
lit earth and watched the brightening stars as 
the lovely crescent slowly sank behind the tall 

61 




62 


IONE. 


mountain in the declining hours of the night. 
All this but added to the darkness of her life, 
and in contrasting her innerself with the bright- 
ness of nature she unconsciously arose, and 
as she did so knocked over a vase of fresh cut 
flowers, the shattering of the vase making 
known to any one in the house, not yet asleep, 
her wakefulness. Dr. Grey heard and knew 
the meaning though he dare not make inquiries 
or intrude, but claspped his hands in silent 
supplication to the Comforter of lonely lives. 

At an early hour he arose, dressed himself 
and with the help of his crutch, crossed the lawn 
and seated himself on a rustic bench entirely 
screened by white clematis vines. To his right, 
at the foot of the terrace, several yards away, 
almost hidden by a sweet-brier hedge, he dis- 
covered Salome hastily pacing the walk. The 
sheer pink muslin robe, loosely girdled by a 
crimson cord, revealing the lovely contour of her 
figure, was proof that she had donned it the 
night before. 

The dress was unclaspped, the lace falling 
away in soft folds revealing a neck rivaling in 
beauty a faultlessly carved statue. One sleeve was 
pinned at the shoulder, her white dimpled arm that 
tapered to the tips of her pink fingers clasping 
the other behind her head ; the raven hair was 


IONE. 


6 3 


half uncoiled and careless ringlets were falling 
over face and neck ; and with soulful, victorious 
eyes that bespoke the caging of all predisposed 
nature, she paused and gazed long and wistfully 
at the murky sun battling his way through hazy 
clouds, sending forth his life giving rays whether 
or not intervening nature defeated his object. 
As she stood there, a sweet assurance of divine 
aid came to her, and turning, met the cause of 
her inward struggle hobbling as best he could to- 
ward her. 

He was wearing this morning, a white sailor 
suit, and his pale emaciated face, together with 
his affliction, lent to him a ghostly appearance. 
All selfishness was turned to sympathy and she 
rushed forward to, in some way, assist him along. 
As she pitied his physical, so he pited her 
sentimental being, and a strange sense of de- 
pendence and support took possession of both. 

One crutch was laid down and he leaned 
heavily on the arm whose loveliness, the hastily 
lowered sleeve shut from view, but not from 
memory. 

“ Salome,” he at last said, 

“ If I have seemed more prompt to censure wrong 
Than praise the right 

* * * 

“ Thou knowest my heart, dear friend, and well caust guess 


64 


IONE. 


That even though silent I have not the less 
Rejoiced to see thy actual life agree 
With the large future which I shaped for thee, 
When years ago, beside the summer sea, 

White in the moon, we saw the long waves fall 
Baffled and broken from the rocky wall, 

That, to the menace of the brawling flood, 

Opposed alone its massive quietude, 

Calm as a fate, with not a leaf-vine now 
Nor birch-spray trembling in the still moon-shine 
Crowning it like God’s peace. I sometimes think 
That night scene by the sea prophetical, - 
(For Nature speaks in symbols and in signs, 

And through her pictures human fate divines.) 

That rock, wherefrom we saw the billows sink — 
In murmuring rout upspringing clear and tall, 

In the white light of heaven, the type of one 
Who, momently by Error’s hosts assailed, 

Stands strong as a truth, in greaves of granite mailed 

And sometimes you ‘ will hear over all 
The angels say, Well done ! ’ ” 


“ Nay, Dr. Grey,” Salome answered. “ 
friend, 

“ Was of a gentler nature, and his heart, 

Gushed like a river-fountain of the hills. 

Ceaseless and lavish, at a kindly smile, 

A word of welcome, or a tone of love. 

* * * 

“ and above 

Life’s sorrows and its clouds his spirit rose, 

Tearful and yet triumphant, taking hold 


10NE. 


6 5 


Of the eternal promise of God, 

And steadfast in its faith ! ’ ’ 

“ By example, Salome, you have sent me forth 

Strengthened to suffer, gifted to subdue 
The might of human passion, to pass on 
Quietly to the sacrifice of all 
The lofty hopes of manhood, and to turn 
The high ambition 

From its first dream of power and human fame, 

Unto a task of seeming lowliness — 

Yet God-like in its purpose.” 

“ And Salome, your cause will be as noble as, 

“ He that went forth 
To bind the broken-spirit — to pluck back 
The heathen from the wheel of Juggernaut — 

To place the spiritual image of a God 
Holy and just and true, before the eye 
Of the dark-minded Brahmin, and unseal 
The holy pages of the Book of life, 

Fraught with sublimer mysteries than all 
The sacred tones of Vedas — to unbind 
The widow from her sacrifice, and save 
The perishing infant from the worshipped river. ” 

“But,” again Salome answered, 

“Who shall give me, now that ye are gone, 

Knowledge of those immortal plants that bloom ? * ’ 

“ Nay,” replied Dr. Grey, 

“ All the means of action — 

The shapeless masses, the materials — 


66 


IONE. 


Lie everywhere about us. What we need 
Is the celestial: fire to change the flint 
Into transparent crystal, bright and clear. 

That fire is genius ! The rude peasant sits 
At evening in his empty cot, and draws 
With charcoal uncouth figures on the wall. 

The son of genius comes, foot-sore with travel, 

And begs a shelter from the inclement night. 

He takes the charcoal from the peasants’ hand, 

And, by the magic of his touch at once 
Transfigured, all its hidden virtues shine, 

And, in the eyes of the astonished clown, 

It gleams a diamond ! Even thus transformed, 

Rude popular traditions and old tales 

Shine as immortal poems, at the touch 

Of some poor houseless, homeless, wandering bard, 

Who had but a nights lodging for his pains.” 

Salome remained silent for a moment, then 
made answer: 

ir As men from men 

Do, in the constitution of their souls, 

Differ, by mystery not to be explained ; 

And as we fall by various ways and sink 
One deeper than another, self-condemned, 

Through manifold degrees of grief and shame ; 

So manifold and various are the ways 
Of restoration, fashioned to the steps 
Of all infirmity, and tending all 
To the same point, attainable by all* — 

Peace in ourselves, and union with our God.” 

Dr. Grey could hardly control his feelings, 


IONE. 


67 


but at last clasping Salome’s hand lovingly, he 
said : “ My sister, my sweet sister, if a name 

“ Dearer and purer were, it should be thine. 

Mountains and seas divide us, but I claim 
No tears but tenderness to answer mine. 

Go where I will, to me thou art the same — 

A loved regret which I would not resign. 

There are yet two things in my destiny — 

A world to roam through, and a home with thee.” 


“ When I am old, Salome, and my life work 
done, let me come back to this land of my birth 
and with you and the children to stand around 
me, breathe my last.” 

“For heaven’s sake, exclaimed Salome, do not 
cause my heart to burst this morning ! If I thought 
I would behold you no more until the final parting, 
I fear I should faint by the wayside.” 

If she had not felt his dependence upon her 
for support, doubtless she would have succumbed 
to this paralyzing grief at once, but sometimes 
God’s afflictions serve as a brace to our otherwise 
inefficient selves. 

Their walk came to a terminus beside a 
small artificial lake, and Dr. Grey suggested 
they rest in the vine-covered summer-house that 
shut from view all but the sheet of water in front 
of them. 

Salome took a seat at his feet, leaned her head 


68 


IONE. 


against his knees, and burst into a flood of grief. 
One of her hands were tightly clasped in his 
and with his other he smoothed the hair away 
from her temple, 

The lake stretched away for one hundred 
yards or so in front of them ; a pair of white 
swans and numerous white ducks floated lazily 
on its bosom ; ferns and broad-leafed caladiums 
covered the banks, producing a tropical effect, 
and the flowers of the moon vine covering the 
lattice over their heads, had not yet closed its 
petals. Roses and carnations bloomed in abun- 
dance all around, making the morning air heavy 
with incense from their charitable hearts. 
Nature is not slow to respond to care-Laking 
touches, but man’s heart often proves adamant 
to the most thorough tilling ; loving, hands fail- 
ing to produce any response, but the touch of 
other icy fingers rendering verdant the parched 
desert. 

Struggling rays of sunshine pierced the dark 
clouds in the east, and were playing at hide 
and seek all around them. Not a word was 
spoken for fully an hour and even then, Dr. 
Grey did not try to calm her grief. He 
knew her heart would suffer less if allowed to 
give vent, to tears. Did he have a temptation to 
take her to his heart and be content, as he 


TONE. 


69 


thought, with this morsel left him ? His soul 
cried out in emptiness, but he fancied his self- 
respect depended on his being true to his 
dead love. 

He talked to her long and tenderly of herself 
and the children, then after he had suggested 
they return to breakfast, he placed his arm around 
her and imprinted one long, passionate kiss on 
her lips, the only woman’s lips, beside mother 
and sisters, warm with life, he had ever kissed. 

Again came the impulse to yield, but the stern- 
ness in his nature yielded not to the beseechings 
of his heart, so they arose, and leaning heavily 
upon her arm, returned to the house. Into 
Salome’s heart, through this one act, crept an 
assurance that he loved her and that thought 
alone, would render easier the separation. 

All day long people came and went bidding 
“ Good-bye ” and “ God speed ” to their beloved 
doctor. Finally, night came and in order to 
keep the children up until his departure all as* 
sembled in the library. Salome played her soft- 
est, sweetest airs, her very fingers wringing music 
from the keys, in keeping with her heart. At 
length when he asked her to sing a favorite song, 
she poured forth her soul in such exquisite strains 
that for a moment, he imagined some celestial 
being had winged its flight from heaven to still 


70 


IONE. 


his aching heart. As the last notes echoed 
through the house, he placed his hand on her 
head, and said : “ God has indeed lavished his 
blessings on you, Salome, and may you ever be 
mindful of your duty to him. May you prove a 
‘wanderer from Altruria.’ ” 

“ be to other souls 
The cup of strength in some great agony ! 

Enkindle generous ardour, feed pure love, 

Beget the smiles that have no cruelty, 

Be the sweet presence of a good diffused, 

And in diffusion ever more intense ! ” 

“Your wonderful voice would fill with ambi- 
tion any woman, and may that true develop- 
ment and expansion of the individual, which 
must be the purpose of true life, come to you. 
* Humankind being so mysteriously linked to- 
gether that what we give out returns to us again 
as surely as the echo comes back from the 
rock.’ ” 

He put both his hands over hers and pressed 
them so hard that the print of the keys were 
left on her palms, then on hearing the carriage 
at the door hastily bade them a formal farewell, 
and with the driver’s help climbed into the car- 
riage. 


CHAPTER IX. 

NE month after the Chilton reception, 
Eugene Morris accompanied lone to 
see Bernhardt. “ The materialism, 
luxury and vanities, rivaling Rome, 
when its debauchery culminated, and when its 
pride was the precursor of its fall.” 

Near their box in this magnificent theatre 
were the Granville’s. A bow of recognition was 
exchanged between Muriel, lone and her escort, 
but Granville did not notice them. During the 
intervals of the play, Morris made Granville’s 
countenance a study and soon drew a hasty but 
correct opinion of his character. 

Why he should feel an unusual interest in 
these people he did not know, for he found 
Granville’s face repugnant to him and Muriel’s 
so positively miserable that it was pitiable. 
Still he could not rid himself of the interest 
they first awakened. His eyes wandered in their 
direction and alighted on them so often that 
finally, lone playfully rallied him on the subject. 



71 



7 2 


IONE. 


Mr. Granville had left Muriel’s side at the end 
of every act and Morris noticed that his step 
became less elastic each time he returned. At 
the commencement of the last act he did not 
return at all and at the conclusion, Muriel was 
embarassingly left standing alone in that vast 
audience. 

Mr. Morris, with a significant look, detained 
lone, and when most of the throng had passed 
out, they made their way to Mrs. Granville’s 
side and graciously asked permission to see her 
to her carriage. Neither gave the “ white lie ” 
that probably her husband was unwell, but 
quietly passed out, and when Muriel was seated 
in her carriage she feelingly pressed their hands 
and bade the driver hasten to her hotel. 

The next morning at a ridiculously early hour, 
Mr. Granville sought his wife’s room, and there 
remained, in a drunken stupor, the balance of the 
day. She was no longer the Muriel of former 
days, bitterness was entering her soul and her 
heart was turning to stone. 

John Milton, great and good John Milton so 
far forgot himself as to pray, in so many words, 
that “ his enemies might be eternally thrown 
down into the darkest and deepest gulf of hell, 
there to be the undermost and most dejected, 
the lowest down vassals of perdition ! ” And 


ION E. 


73 


Martin Luther so far forgot himself as to say, 
in regard to his theological opponents : “ Put 

them in whatever sauce you please, roasted, or 
fried, or baked, or stewed, or boiled, or hashed, 
they are nothing but asses ! ” If John Milton, 
or Martin Luther could come down to such 
scurrility, what may you not expect from frail, 
deceived woman ? The clamor of the battle may 
not have been heard outside, but God knows, 
notwithstanding all the playing of the Wedding 
March, all the odor of the orange blossoms, and 
the benediction of the pastor, there had been 
no marriage. 

Man had done all required on the occasion 
but, where was God’s part ? “ Whom God hath 

joined together let no man put asunder.” 

The love Muriel once thought would stand all 
time was turning to hate, and not only was her 
happiness at stake, but her soul. 

“ Life is a fluid red as wine, frought with the 
azone of hope, carried to a heart of love and 
hate, which sends it forth to nourish the tissues 
of faith or doubt, — its pulsations in and out, 
systole and diastole — until hate has no further 
compensation, dilatation and its function ceases, 
or love has winged life away.” 

From across the court in the beautiful hotel, 
while Muriel hastily promenaded up and down 


74 


IONE. 


in front of her door on the morning following 
her abandment at the theatre, there floated the 
words of some sweet singer whose voice at times 
was almost drowned by the full notes of the 
piano. 

“ ‘ Not the waste drops of thy cup o’erflowing 
* * * 

** * Give as He gave to thee, who gave thee to live. 

Pour out thy love like the rush of a river, 

Wasting its waters forever and ever, 

Through the burnt sand that rewards not the giver ; 

Silent and songful thou nearest the sea. 

Though thy heart be wasted and weary, 

Laid on an alter all ashen and dreary 
Though from its pulses a faint-miserere 
Beats to thy soul the sad presage of fate. 

Bind it with cords of unshrinking devotion 
Smile at the song of its restless emotion ; 

’Tis the stern hymn of eternity’s ocean ; 

Hear ! and in silence thy future await.’ ” 

Listening to the song, lone tried to renew 
her courage, and entered her room with new re- 
solves to suffer on in secrecy, thinking, like 
most women, that no one knew but herself. But 
how quickly these new formed resolutions faded 
into nothingness when again in her husband’s 
presence ? This time she tried the efficacy of a 
“curtain-lecture,” the next, gentle persuasion 


IONE. 


75 


varied with coaxing, the vocabulary which is 
known to women alone. From bad to worse he 
went with an accelerated velocity surprising to 
the hardened reprobate. He continually asked 
Muriel for large sums of money and sometimes 
gave a half way reasonable excuse for such de- 
mands, but oftener than otherwise, refused to 
give any. 

Doubtless most any of her intimate friends 
could have told her how to effect his reform 
and had she applied many of the sermons, she 
would have found herself the sole instigation 
of his downfall. But happily for her, she did 
not hear them and consequently did not upbraid 
herself as a criminal. 

To-day she received a letter from Dr. Grey, 
saying he had put her business affairs in the 
hands of Morris and Chilton, trusted friends of 
his, as he expected soon to rejoin his fleet, 
hinting in a gentle manner a little more econ- 
omy, as her bank account had deminished quite 
rapidly during the few months of her married 
life. How she longed to tell him all ! But as 
he did not mention the route he would take to 
his destination she had little hopes of seeing 
him soon, if ever. All entreaties on her part, 
all promises to reform on her husband’s, availed 
naught. She could not be so far untrue to her- 


76 


TONE. 


self as to longer effect any love or even respect, 
for him, as his first greetings and last words were 
generally bitter oaths, with threats often, of per- 
sonal violence, which, this afternoon, he put in- 
to effect by knocking her senseless with his 
walking cane, and after several days confine- 
ment her mind was forced to seek the only 
outlet for a solution of this dreadful problem. 

Yes, she would leave him. She would effect 
a separation, for her promise of fidelity did not 
include in its category any license for him to 
murder her body and destroy her soul, and while 
not in so rapid and violent a manner, how often 
do we grant men such a license, in letting them, 
by slow degrees, rob wife of both life and 
heaven ! But the spirit of pulpit and press force 
her to this total annihilation. With the excep- 
tion of Dwight L. Moody, — than whom no 
living evangelist has done more good — how 
many prominent ministers can you find that 
not even approve of a separation. 

He says, in plain English, that “ women 
should be divorced from such moral lepers.” 
“ But,” answers some one, “ you will break up 
so many homes ! ” “ Ah ! ” replied he, “ they are 
not homes but hells, and ought to be broken 
up.” 

The “leader” of New York’s “Four Hundred” 


IONE. 


77 


insists that all divorced men and women, be os- 
tracised from their number. Some one remarks: 
“ What will you do with the bold flirts and 
libertines who make marriage a mockery in 
God’s sight ? ” If not guilty of divorce are they 
not guilty of leading a dual life. 

Muriel Granville, the bride of four months, 
as soon as she was able to leave her bed with 
the servant’s help, packed her trunks and ordered 
them taken to a railroad station, thus hoping to 
elude her husband if he pursued her later, but 
when once they were there she hastily ordered 
them removed to a quiet suburban hotel, and 
engaged apartments for one month. She 
could not leave New York without conferring 
with her attorneys, for no doubt Dr. Grey had 
by this time, sailed, thus leaving her alone and 
helpless in this unfriendly world, dishonoring 
most of all, the woman whose husband fails 
to honor her, she who is suffering the multi- 
plied tortures of a living purgatory, will find the 
coals heaped upon her and the sulphuric blazes 
fanned to an insurmountable height by Anglo- 
Saxon civilization and pretended followers of 
Christ. Will the people of India not realize 
sooner, — despite their gross ignorance — 
than boasted civilization, the cruelty and 
heartlessness of their treatment of wronged 


78 


IONE. 


womanhood ? Every little paper, and small 
rostrum speaker sneeringly alludes to the di- 
vorced woman. 

Early the following morning she wrote Morris 
& Chilton a note of inquiry, enclosing Dr. 
Grey’s letter, and asked for an interview at their 
office or at her hotel. Mr. Chilton being absent 
from town, Morris replied to her note, saying that 
“ for the sake of his warm admiration and friend- 
ship for Dr. Grey, he would call to see her at 
three o’clock that afternoon,” and promptly at 
the designated hour his card was sent up. 
Muriel tremblingly met him in the private 
parlor. He had not heard of her elopement, 
and consequently was painfully shocked but 
not surprised when she told in her very first 
words that “ she had quitted her husband.” 

Boundless pity took possession of him as he 
gazed at the delicate, almost childish wife be- 
fore him, — wife in name only, for surely Christ 
did not mean her like, when he spoke of “ those 
whom God had joined together.” 

Dr. Grey had told her that her new legal ad- 
visers were gentlemen, his friends, and to fully 
trust them in all her dealings with them; so with 
a childish confidence she told Eugene Morris all, 
and asked his counsel. 

“ I cannot advise you,” he said, “until I try 


IONE. 


79 


to find Dr. Grey by wire. Your husband draws 
from your account by checks signed, he says, by 
yourself. And as to the managing of your pro- 
perty, he has sufficient control of that to pre- 
vent you disposing of it without his signature.” 

“ I have signed no checks since we were mar- 
ried,” replied Muriel. “I supposed we were 
living off his income. As to the finances, it 
does not matter. Let him have all the money 
he wants, I will have plenty on which to live a 
secluded life.” 

Very few more words were exchanged. Morris 
bade her adieu and hastened to a telegraph 
office, to find, if in America, Dr. Grey. 

“Live a secluded life.” How the words had 
haunted her ever since she uttered them. Like 
a ghost of some horrid past, her imagination be- 
held herself the cynosure of all eyes and suspi- 
ciously scrutinized by every stranger. 

At first she was overwhelmed, but her latent 
powers were soon arroused and she was womanly 
but firm in every conviction of what she 
thought was right. 

One conclusion was soon reached “ she would 
never live with Gerard Granville again ! ” 
And after that a second but more important one 
was determined upon. She would be a live, 
healthy “ grass widow,” disdaining to let any 


8o 


IONE. 


man rob her of the right to live joyously on this 
beautiful earth where God had created her ; for 
what purpose she could not see now, unless, to 
try some new seething caldron, and by her own 
flesh and blood make it less hot for the next one 
immersed. If so, His purpose would be fulfilled, 
and she would not doubt, but by faith, hold on 
to His dear hand. 

Eugene Morris remained at the telegraph 
office until night but failed to reach Dr. Grey. 
When returning home, he stopped at his office 
and found there a card, announcing a personal 
call from his friend, during his absence and 
without delay he hastened to visit Dr. Grey at 
the hotel designated on the card. 

Slowly and gently the news concerning Muriel 
was broken to the doctor, but so horrified 
and distressed was he, that Morris feared to 
leave him alone so early in his convalescence, 
offering to spend the night with him, which 
was graciously accepted and Dr. Grey some- 
what vented his feelings by a long, free con- 
versation with Morris. 

“ Live with him again, indeed she shall not ! ” 
exclaimed Dr. Grey, before his old conservative 
ideas were consulted, but then, such ideas are 
for other people and not intended to punish his 
own loved ones, for he had never entertained 


IONE. 


8l 


for one moment that this debasing condition in 
life would ever come so near his own home. 
True, Muriel was no relative, but she had be- 
come very dear to him and he would let no man 
abuse her. People had better be sure all their 
female relatives are dead, or have a garantee 
of no more brutal husbands before they too 
openly denounce the divorce system. 

Muriel was surprised at a summons to the 
parlor at an early hour next morning, to meet 
Mr. Morris, and on entering, perceiving Dr. 
Grey, she threw up her hands and fell to the 
floor in a deep swoon from which she was arous- 
ed too weak to talk. Mr. Morris bore her in 
his arms to her own appartments, and then 
Dr. Grey excused him by promising to call at 
his office as soon as he could leave Mrs. Gran- 
ville. 

Every time she tried to talk, she would begin 
to gasp. Dr. Grey begged her to be quite and 
not exert herself, assuring her he knew all her 
troubles and did not blame her. 

“ You do not know all, Dr. Grey, you cannot ! 
No one but God and I know all.” 

Dr. Grey arose to administer an opiate and 
in crossing the room, she noticed for the first 
time, his limp and also his emaciated face. 

With a heart yearning with pity she endeav- 


82 


IONE. 


ored to rally, forgetting in a degree her own suf- 
fering, for there is no surer cure, for the ills of 
this life, than a sympathizing heart and an interest 
in other’s afflictions. 

On perceiving this the doctor talked to her 
of other things and in a small measure restored 
her to her former self. All day long he sat by 
her bed and held her little soft hand. Once in 
raising her arm to her head, her sleeve fell away, 
and to his indignation, he beheld twodarkbruises 
on the upper arm. 

Now he could fully realize just why people 
committed rash acts of vengeance. He felt that 
if he had Granville in his power he could stran- 
gle him, but the second thought showed him 
the futility of indulging in such degrading 
thoughts, and he pitied any man so lost to all the 
nobler and holier instincts of life. 

“ Have you formed any plans for the future, 
Muriel ? ” he asked, in a gentle, kindly voice. 

“ I suppose I shall have to live in some board- 
ing-house,” she replied, “ or find a companion in 
some elderly lady, for I cannot live alone. Oh, 
my sainted mother ! Why did you not take me 
with you ? ” She began to sob, Dr. Grey re- 
maining silent until she had calmed. 

“ I want to, for the present, send you to 
Salome, Muriel. Will you go ? ” 


IONE. 


83 


“ O, Dr. Grey ! you know she does not like me 
and I would be intruding where I am not 
wanted. 

“You will find Salome very much changed , ’> 
he replied. “ She has fully dedicated her life to 
philanthropic, Christian work, and I will vouch 
for it, that she will feel complimented in being 
allowed to be your guardian and consoler.” 

“ When shall I go ? ” she asked. 

“ At your earliest convenience, Muriel. Only 
evil and not good, will come of your remaining 
here. This city, I suppose, will be Granville’s 
home, as his property is here, and the further 
away you can be from all scenes of your life 
with him, the better you will be. And now, 
Muriel, if you feel strong enough to remain 
alone to-night, I will leave you, and try to ar- 
range your business with Mr. Morris that your 
departure south may be hastened.” He gently 
touched her forehead with his lips, and left her 
feeling more painfully her condition, than the 
night before. 

Ah, poor girl ! You will do this every day you 
live, until you cease to live in the past, or give 
any thoughts to the future, but accept God’s 
decree. “ If I have erred, then indeed has my 
Father erred in fashioning me not aright.” Dr. 
Grey sent Salome a telegram announcing Muri- 


8 4 


IONE. 


el’s return to her former home, and asked her 
to entertain her. Then two hours of that night 
were spent penning her a long letter, giving in 
detail all he knew of their trouble. 

Of course the telegram astonished and greatly 
alarmed Salome, but she knew nothing more 
until the arrival of his letter. She answered 
the telegram urging Muriel to be her guest for 
an indefinite time, knowing full well that Dr. 
Grey was taking no unjustifiable step, and she 
relied unreservedly on his judgement. 

Matters were hastily arranged and three days 
after, Muriel bade adieu to Gotham and fled, an 
exile, to the South. 

What a benefit to the charity of humanity it 
would be, if they could only for one hour expe- 
rience her feelings, as she started on her lonely 
trip. 






CHAPTER X. 


R. GREY’S letter preceeded Muriel, 
giving Salome time to recover from 
the shock, have in readiness a room 
adjoining hers, and open her heart to 
the more than waif on love’s narrow, sparsley, 
inhabited island. 

She met Muriel at the depot and received her 
with open arms. When once inside the carriage 
Muriel sought relief in tears, sobbing out her 
grief on Salome’s shoulder. 

“ Could she ever measure human nature 
again ? ” she thought to herself as she beheld in 
this once willful rebellious, sarcastic girl, a lovely 
sympathizing woman, and Granville whom she 
had thought all devotion and gentleness, trans- 
formed into a villian. 

Salome encouraged Muriel to tell her all, 
knowing she would feel relieved of a great bur- 
den when she had some one else to share her 
sorrow. 

At the house, the servants and all callers were 

8S 




86 


IONE. 


told why Mrs. Granville returned — so there 
was no attempted secrecy which always magni- 
fies matters many times. 

The second morning after her arrival, Salome 
called to her in a sweet winning manner, to 
“ don her hat and accompany . her to the or- 
phanage.” 

She had rather have remained at home and 
mope, but she could not refuse this new-found 
friend, so without any preoccupied air about her 
she was led out by Stanley and Jessie to visit 
those not worse, but differently situated in this 
world. The drive was pleasant and exhilara- 
ting, and all alighted with a degree of joyous- 
ness attendant upon any appreciation of God’s 
lavish blessings. 

Not with jealousy, but wonder, did she notice 
the welcome accorded Salome. The loving smile 
of Directress and those in charge, down to the 
lowest servant, and the rush of the children to 
meet her, convinced Muriel that there was 
morei n life, then living ones own pleasure. 

Next they visited the sick wards, distributing 
flowers and dainties among the little sufferers. 
Truly, as she had hoped, the morning’s experi- 
ence was an advantage to Muriel, making her 
in a small measure, forget her sorrow and long 
to aid suffering humanity to combat with life. 


IONE. 


87 


They returned at a late hour and Salome, 
finding her mail awaiting her, broke the seal of 
a letter she knew to be from Dr. Grey, and 
eagerly devoured its contents. As it concerned 
Muriel more than herself, she, after arising and 
apcing the room for several moments in order 
to compose herself, called to her friend and read 
the following : 

My Dear Salome : — “ New York 

Say to Muriel that I to-day instituted a suit for divorce. 
Can you believe this, although my signature is appended, I, Dr. 
Grey, who all my life have held in such abhorence the divorce 
laws, actually asking of man to do that for me, — which I have 
always affirmed they could not do. Do not infer that I yet believe 
in marrying again, but helpless woman must have some protec- 
tion. By no other means can Muriel defend herself from her 
husband’s mischievous tongue, or assume entire control of her 
property, for if you remember, a very large investment was con- 
sumated the morning following their marriage, and although it 
was mostly done in his name, her money paid for it. This in- 
cludes a very large per cent of her possession and she cannot get 
control of it, or dispose of it, until the law gives her this right. 
And beside, I cannot bear the idea of her bearing his name, or 
being linked to such a baseness of life. It always seemed right 
and to sunder the ties, a violation of God’s law when it was others 
It does not seem right, or the latter when it is mine. 

“ O would some power the gift give us 
To se others as •we see ourselves. ” 

“ That ye will not to do, ye do ; and that ye will do, ye do not. 
No more will I criticise, or dictate to others until I have passed 


88 


IONE. 


through the same experience, for otherwise we cannot know how 
to advise* We cannot well put ourselves in the other one’s 
place until fate puts us there. I know you will do your utmost 
to win Muriel to another life, and may God’s richest blessings attend 
you both. Remember me to the boys — a dozen kisses for 
Jessie. 

Your Friend, 

Ulpian Grey.” 

Muriel remained silent for several minutes. 
At length Salome said to her. “ Do you object 
to Dr. Grey’s proceeding? ” 

“ No,” Muriel answered, “ I cannot object to 
anything he thinks for the best, for he is so 
much wiser and better than myself that it would 
be preposterous for me to even offer a sugges- 
tion. If I had heeded his wishes I would not 
have let my love for Gerard control me. But I, 
by my ceaseless devotion, prevailed upon him to 
yield to my marriage, which he did against his 
better judgment, though he had nothing to base 
his dislike upon but Gerard’s fickleness. I 
would have preferred just being separated, but 
he knows best and I shall, this time, gracefully 
yield to his decision. 

“ Will you answer him, or shall I ? ” Salome 
asked. 

“ Please, my sweet friend, do it for me. I 
could not sufficiently collect myself to word a 


IONE. 89 

letter, much less write one. I will give directions 
to the maid while you write.” 

“ I like the man who faces what he must, 

With step triumphant, and a heart of cheer j 
Who fights the daily battle without fear j 

Sees his hopes fail, yet keeps unfaltering trust 
That God is good j that somehow, true and just, 

His plans work out for mortals ; not a tear 
Is shed when fortune, which the world holds dear, 

Falls from his grasp — better with love a crust, 

Than living in dishonor, envies not 
Nor loses faith in man j but does his best, 

* * * 

“ he alone is great, 

Who by a life heroic conquers fate.” 

For in her marriage, the highest bond of all, 
Muriel had ceased to see the mystic union which 
is its own guarantee of indissolubleness, had 
ceased even to see the obligation of a voluntary 
pledge ; had she not proved that the things to 
which she had bound herself were impossible, 
and was she under any obligation before her God 
to keep and perform the holy pledges that she 
instinctively gave, not dreaming that he was 
securing them from her, under false pretences ? 

The next morning being the Sabbath, they 
began early to make preparations to attend Sun- 
day School and worship in the chapel at the 
Orphanage. 


90 


IOnE. 


Salome was beginning to find God in every- 
thing. Every duty performed was worship to 
her, and to-day as they drove down the beauti- 
ful avenue, the poets words ; 

“ Were I, Oh God, in churchless land remaining, 

Far from the voice of teacher or divine j 
My sou] would find in flowers of Thy ordaining 
Priest, Sermon, shrine. 

came to her, and with mute lips she poured out 
her adoration to the “ Giver of all beautiful 
gifts.” 

God’s love is best appreciated by those who 
are most sensitive to their need of it. It is when 
we are sick we value a physician’s presence and 
ministry. It is when we have lost our way, that 
we welcome a skilled guide. It is when the 
darkness has shut in about us, that we are 
cheered by an incoming light. It is when our 
hearts are crushed and bleeding, that love’s ten- 
derness and sympathy are most grateful and re- 
freshing to us. It is in hours of bereavement 
and sorrow, that we are able to realize, as never 
before, how truly our Saviour is Physician and 
Guide and Light and Friend and Love and 
Peace, and this realization is a blessing un- 
speakable, whatever be its cost to the soul. 

Salome took her place in the chapel, and had 
the superintendent assign a class to Muriel — 


IONE. 


9 1 

a class of five boys under the ages of ten. 
Muriel demurred, preferring a place in Salome’s 
class, but the latter knew that in leading others 
she would fully experience her own faith. 

Salome’s delicate attention awakened a new 
chord in Muriel’s heart, for, 

“ Not unto every heart is God’s good gift 
Of simple tenderness allowed. We meet 
With love in many fashions when we lift 
First to our lips life’s waters bitter sweet. 

Love comes upon us with resistless power 
Of endless possession and with head- strong will j 
It plays around like April’s breeze and shower 
Or calmly flows, a rapid stream and still ; 

It comes with blessedness unto the heart 
That welcome it aright, or — bitter fate — 

It wrings the bosom with so fierce a smart 
That love we cry, is more cruel than hate, 

And then, ah, me ! When love has ceased to bless, 

Our broken hearts cry out for tenderness ! ” 

* * * * 

“We long for tenderness like that which hung 
About us lying on our mother’s breast — 

A 6 elfish feeling, that no pen or tongue 
Can praise aright, since, silence sings it best j 
A love as far removed from passion’s heat 
As from the chilliness of its dying fire j 
A love to bear on when the failing feet 
Begin to totter and the eyes to tire.” 

Muriel had known no woman’s love except 


9 2 


IONE. 


Miss Dexter’s, and for some reason she could 
not lean on her as on Salome, or, she did not 
need the tenderness then as now. After services 
were over, the older brothers joined them and 
were driven over in the carriage to take dinner 
and spend the remainder of the day with their 
sister. 

Muriel inquired of the boys about the “ Old 
Homestead,” entering fully into details of all 
the improvements they had made, and ended by 
promising to visit them soon and see some fine 
sheep Dr. Grey had sent the day before. 

They seemed so interested in their work and 
surroundings, that Salome a little dreaded to 
make known Dr. Grey’s wishes relative to their 
college courses. But they received it submis- 
sively, and plans were laid to enter in Septem- 
ber, the State Polytechnic Institute. 



CHAPTER XI 


HEN Gerard Granville returned to his 
hotel after Muriel’s flight, he was too 
much intoxicated to notice her ab- 
sence, and with the champagne already- 
imbibed, and that which he continued to have 
the servants bring him, one week elapsed before 
he was sobered sufficiently to notice surround- 
ings. 

With an oath, he called to her to bring him 
his cane, but no answer came. Again he called 
in a louder voice but no Muriel was this time 
frightened into obeying. “ Obey,” how detestable 
the word ! What a relic of barbarism ; instead 
of joining them together, or they “ whom 
God, had joined together ” uniting as happy 
comrades, one of them making promise to obey, 
mattered not what the order is, for no specifi- 
cations are given as to letting her not obey if 
the order is a wicked one. 

Paul says, “ obey your husband in the lord,” 
but human agencies, that take upon themselves 
this solemn duty, fails to use the prefix. 



9J 



94 


IONE 


Muriel, by this time is half way to her desti- 
nation and beyond the reach of his blood-curd- 
ling oaths. The servant soon appeared and 
calmly told him that his wife had been gone a 
week. 

“ Gone ! ” thundered he, “ How dare she with- 
out my consent ! I will let her know a wife’s duty 
when she returns.” 

“ But she does not intend to return,” the ser- 
vant replied. “ She took her trunks and left, she 
said, for ‘ parts unknown. ’ ” 

“ What do you mean, you scoundrel, by telling 
me that Mrs. Granville would do such a thing 
as leave me for good ! ” 

“ That is just what she said,” the agitated 
servant replied, “ I am only delivering her mes- 
sage.” 

“ Leave my presence, sir ! ” roared Mr. 
Granville who was by this time in a towering 
rage. He began examining the room. Strange, 
what a few words it takes sometimes to sober a 
man. Horrified, he found that not one vestage 
of his wife’s belongings remained, and thinking 
of her as the pliable girl in her teens, it also oc- 
cured to him, that, probably she received at his 
hands such tempering in a furnace, — greivous 
afflictions by which men are tried, — .that had 
hardened ten times her nature ; and that she 


IONE. 


95 


was no longer to be turned and twisted to suit 
his perverse nature, or to serve as a guiiding 
for the two the minister had declared “ one,” 
and that now probably, only the iron in her 
nature was left, — which would serve as a barrier 
to all entreaties from him, and, if not so beauti- 
ful, fit her for becoming a strong shaft in the 
temple of human live’s built for the Maker. 
May she not make of herself the “ goldbeater’s 
skin ” to women in like affliction. 

“ Where love is duty on the female side 

On theirs, mere sensual gust and sought with surly pride.” 

Mr. Granville forgot all about his cane, but 
ordered more wine and made himself dead 
drunk. Doubtless some blamed his wife for his 
drinking in the outset, and no doubt some of 
her own sex in the hotel, now publicly denounced 
her for not staying with him, and probably she 
could have saved him from this drunk, at least. 

By invitation, Eugene Morris dined with the 
Chilton’s a week after Muriel’s departure. Mr. 
Chilton had not returned, consequently Muriel’s 
flight and Dr. Grey’s subsequent proceedings 
against Mr. Granville were news to them, and at 
the mentioning of the divorce, Mrs. Chilton 
held up her hands in holy horror. 

“ Of course, Mr. Morris, you do not believe in 


9 6 


IONE. 


divorce ? You do not advocate them? you simply 
serve your client.” 

“ I never advise them,” he replied, “ but if 
I had a sister so situated, then I certainly 
would, for I do believe in them and find it the 
only remedy in certain cases. There are worse 
things than divorce. Constant bickerings, and 
the entire neglect of duty in either party could 
not make of them twain, but simply one pulling 
forward while the other made of themselves, a 
weight of immovable proportions about the 
other’s feet. Christ’s spirit cannot dwell where 
the very air is laden with the foul odor of intoxi- 
cants, and blue with profanity.” 

“ But this is not Christ’s teaching,” replied 
Mrs. Chilton. 

“ Christ’s teaching,” said Morris, “ applied to 
His time, — while of course it is sufficient for 
all time — still His teaching was to the class of 
that day. Do you believe that a God of His 
love and tender mercy, would require an inno- 
cent girl to go through such torture as thousands 
are undergoing ? We are horrified at the people 
of India for committing to the flames the girlish 
relict of the dead man ! Countless thousands in 
Christendom are worse tortured daily. We bind 
them to the rack and hold them there, each 
thankful, to be relieved of the painful task of a 


IONE. 


97 


few hours watching the victim, and enter our 
own abode, washing our hands of the whole 
affair, then “ thank God we are not as they ! ” 

“ As to Paul, he acknowledged himself, that 
‘there were times when he did not know whether 
he had the Spirit of God or not,’ and I think he 
was surely out of the spirit in dealing with 
women. Any way, the great bulk of civilized 
and enlightened nations recognize and even 
enact into law, the right of people to be divorced 
under certain circumstances. 

“I like Martin Luther’s maxim : ‘ The right of 
private interpretation of the Scriptures.’ Many 
of the old Bible lessons have been accepted 
literally by us, rather than in the deeper mean- 
ing involved, for we would not treat our criminals 
according to some of the ancient notions of God’s 
justice. Dealing with human nature makes us 
more of latitudinarians, believing in a rational, 
natural religion, for there is a broad destinction 
between religion and theology. 

“ I think that love should be the only bond to 
force two people to live to-gether, I do not 
believe one person should be a slave for another, 
especially by law. 

“But Mrs. Chilton, I fully realize the haphazard 
of a woman braving the opinions of the clergy 
and the world on this critical point, and to 


9 8 


IONE. 


attempt it, one must, in the language of the poet, 
‘ Have triple bars around the heart, become 
insensible to the shafts of calumny, and concen- 
trate within one’s self all the warmth of one’s 
sentiments.’ For the world offers no compensa- 
tion to the one who feels that the chief relation 
of their lives has been no more than a mistake.” 
“ You make the case extremely pitiful, Mr. 
Morris,” Mrs.Chilton answered. 

“ Indeed, it is pitiful : What I object to is, 
the part out-siders play, and then call it God’s 
work. The man and woman who agree within 
them-selves, giving all the sacred promises of an 
engagement, are as truly married as they who 
take the public vows, and nothing is said should 
either party break off before these public vows 
are made. 

“ If joined by God, are they not so, or is it 
simply man’s ceremony that is recognized by 
Him ? Will you not agree with me that we are 
all at sea in the discernment of just who God 
has joined together ? ” 

“ What made Dr. Grey willing to take this pro- 
ceeding, Mr. Morris ? ” 

“The first law of nature, self preservation,” 
Morris replied, “ and next, the preservation of 
those entrusted to his care.” 

Dinner was announced and Mrs. Chilton led 


IONE. 


99 


the way to the dining room. Conversation was 
turned to the current topics of the day, and after 
the meal was served, she excused herself on the 
plea of “headache,” thus leaving Morris alone 
with lone. 

To her, his presence was sufficient, for already 
she had conceived for him a passion that startled 
herself in its vehemence. As she watched with 
what calmness and self possession he talked to 
her, she almost hated herself for allowing her 
feelings to so far overwhelm her. 

If she had only known, he would have re- 
spected her none the less had she addressed him 

11 1 lift my heavy heart up solemnly, 

As once Electra her sepulchral urn ; 

And, looking in thine eyes, I overturn 
The ashes at thy feet. Behold and see 
What a great heap of grief lay hid in me 
And how the red wild sparkles dimly burn 
Through the ashen grayness. If thy foot in scorn 
Could tread them out in the darkness utterly, 

It might be well, perhaps.” 





CHAPTER XII. 

URIEL, I want you to accompany 
me to the State Capitol next week, 
so get both your travelling dress 
and your most becoming street dress 
ready, for we are going before the Senate to ask 
a donation for our school.” 

“ O, Salome! ” Muriel exclaimed. “You know 
I cannot do that, I will help you in your philan- 
thropic work among the people here, but I can- 
not subject myself to the remarks of an unthink- 
ing public.” 

“ Are you going to seclude yourself because 
of other’s sins ? ” asked Salome, “ in doing this 
you acknowledge some guilt. Have you the 
right to take God’s piece of handiwork and ren- 
der it useless? Your body — God’s own 
temple, given over to seclusion, and morbid 
sensibility ! Make of yourself a healthy example 
for the countless numbers of your sex, alike 
situated, that the coming ages will produce. For 
no ostracism, seclusion, or bitter denunciation 



loo 


IONE. 


IOI 


by the press and clergy, will erase this evil until 
men and women better understand themselves 
and human nature. So just at present we must 
exert ourselves to the utmost to succeed in our 
enterprise. And to reach and control men at 
large, woman has always found her safest and 
surest channel through becoming dress and 
good looks. Despite all their assertions to the 
contrary, an ounce of helpless beauty controls 
men further than any amount of practibility, 
or sound common sense in woman. 

So let us conbine both dress and good looks 
— pardon the vanity, Muriel — and what those 
Senators will not do from a sense of duty, prob- 
ably they will do, because two handsome, well 
dressed women asked them to.” 

Muriel knew this speech, so foreign to Salome, 
was intended principally to amuse her, but 
she could not help admitting to herself that 
there was a vein of t?uth in it all. 

“ We shall not have to charm any home con- 
tributors, for self-interest, both financial and 
for the betterment of surroundings, will prompt 
them to subscribe. This afternoon we will visit 
the town of , and get business men inter- 

ested. After that the prosperous land-owners 
of the surrounding country.” 

Muriel offered no further demur, but entered 


102 


IONE. 


fully and heartily into the work. Do not imag- 
ine for one moment she did not suffer ! There 
were times when she felt her heart must burst. 
Carrying the gospel to the heathen would have 
been a much lighter cross to her. The happy 
domestic scenes in many of the homes visited by 
them, made the emptiness of her own life more 
real, but her daily prayer was “ for God to 
benumb every tender sensibility, and let the iron 
that had entered her soul pierce her whole sen- 
timental being.” 

They succeeded in getting the ten thousand 
dollars contributed by Dr. Grey quadrupled, 
and with hearts as light as the ominous sur- 
roundings permitted, they boarded the train for 
the capitol. Letters of introduction from promi- 
nent men of their community, proceeded them, 
and they were met at the depot by their own 
representative, a friend of Dr. Grey’s.” 

Lovely quarters in a fashionable hotel were 
selected, and Salome entered into the laborious 
work of trying to get a philanthropic bill 
favorably voted upon, by, at least a majority. 
This was the first school of its kind asked for in 
the state, and she met the same, and probably 
more opposition than most such measures have 
encountered. 

State indebtedness was the strongest barrier 


IONE. 


IO3 


to overcome with the body of legislators, but 
with the minority, that which might kill the bill 
in its final passage, was ignorance, local prejudice 
and the dread of not knowing jnst how their 
constitucnce would receive it. 

In the committee room it got “ pigeon-holed,” 
but with unflaging zeal, Salome worked and 
pleaded individually with every member to recon- 
sider the measure, until they yielded. 

And now it would come up before them and a 
final report be made. True, she had found strong 
friends to the bill in some of the body, but how 
she longed for an eloquent representative to 
plead with the others. 

All her life, defeat was a hated word to her, 
and now that the cause was grand, and the re- 
sults for good unbounded if she but succeeded, 
her whole being was strung up to its highest 
pitch. 

Until ten o’clock she received callers, both 
ladies and gentlemen interested in her noble 
work. As she was bidding adieu to the chairman 
of the committee, she said : “ Will you allow me 
to make an address to-morrow ? ” 

With an incredible smile, the chairman 
glanced up at her strong but youthful face, and 
answered : “ With pleasure. I will give you a 

hearing.” 


IONE. 


104 

Until three o’clock in the morning she paced 
her room, heedless of all Muriel’s entreaties to 
retire. At that hour she threw off her handsome 
dress, donned her night-robe and with a fixed de- 
termination bordering on victory written on her 
face, she knelt, said a short prayer, then sank 
upon her couch and was soon lost to the excit- 
ing scenes of the day in dreamless slumber. 

At eight the next morning Muriel awoke her 
with a shower of kisses on cheeks, forehead, and 
lips, but when Salome opened her eyes, Muriel ex- 
perienced that old feeling of fear of her, for since 
her return she had not seen so plainly the “ Sal- 
ome of old.” 

As she looked into her eyes and shrank back, 
Salome read her thoughts and her face broke in 
to a gentle smile. 

“ Do not be alarmed, Muriel, God only does 
his part, and I must bring my strongest nature, 
to help in the matter, so if the willful Salome 
appears upon the scene to-day, remember she 
will not be needed long, and you will soon have 
your same friend.” 

Salome, to please more the eyes of the Senators 
than herself, donned a shimmering black satin, 
the clinging folds of the close fitting skirt became 
her height, the bodice, ornamented with rich 
lace and jet, revealed the graceful curves of her 


IONE. 


io 5 

well developed figure and bust seemingly formed 
of natures softest mold. The tight-fitting sleeve 
drawn taut over the plump arm revealed the 
rounded wrist and long graceful fingers, bespeak- 
ing in a degree the training, if not the birth of 
a lady of leisure. 

Muriel wore a soft gray woolen dress, rendered 
elegant by its trimmings of gray silk and steel 
ornaments. All the city was acquainted of the 
presence of the two ladies for thepurpose of asking 
a donation for their school, but only the com- 
mittee and a few other friends knew them to be 
girls, one of them in her teens. 

The senators who had been apprised of the 
measure before them, expected some middle- 
aged spinsters, and when the two, possessing 
such different styles of beauty, swept into the 
senate chamber, all eyes were turned in admira- 
tion upon them. The admiring glances soon 
strayed from Muriel’s face to watch with intent- 
ness the exquisitely beautiful and expressive one 
of Salome. With flashing eyes she took in the 
surroundings and proceedings. Finally, when 
the time came, and she was asked to plead her 
cause, without fright she arose, advanced to the 
desk near by and in front of her, and said : 

“ Mr. Chairman and Senators. The “ Outlook ” 
tells us that, ‘ one sign of the times is the rapid- 


io6 


TONE. 


ly growing recognition of the necessity of 
thorough education in all the branches of prac- 
tical work.’ The necessity of training for the 
professions has been recognized for centuries ; 
but it has been assumed, especially in this 
country, that success in practical pursuits de- 
pended on natural sagacity and force. In 
Europe, where competition is keener and natu- 
ral opportunities are not so great, people have 
been learning very rapidly in the last two 
generations, that the man in business needs 
education as much as the man in the professions 
or the arts. 

“Germany, so long the home of scholarship 
for its own sake, so easily the educational leader 
of the world, without lowering the standard of 
her universities, has been supplementing them 
with a series of technical institutions directed 
especially to teaching men how to apply science 
to business. England has felt keenly the com- 
petition of Germany during the last two decades ; 
it has been a matter of discussion in the news- 
papers by notes of warning from Fnglish consuls 
from all parts of the East, and South America, 
and of anxious deliberation in Parliament as 
well as out of it. The rapid growth of Germany 
as a commercial nation has been due, as the 
English believe, to the superiority of its com- 
mercial and technical education. 


IONE. 


107 


“ Mr. Chairman, that education is of recent 
origin, but with their immense experience as 
educators, and with their keen perception of the 
opportunities which were offered to modern 
Germany, the Germans have developed their 
education on the practical side with great rapid- 
ity and with characteristic thoroughness. 
Through their technical schools, they have been 
able to avail themselves practically of their 
resources in the way of scientific knowledge ; 
through their commercial schools, they are 
training themselves for the specific work of 
business in all parts of the world. 

“To meet a competition which is essentially 
educational in its origin and character, the 
English have been organizing technical and 
commercial education. A number of institutions 
have been opened in different parts of the 
country during the last few years ; and the es- 
tablishment of the new University at Birming- 
ham, the great manufacturing metropolis of 
England, marks another stage in this movement. 
If the object of this institution were to substi- 
tute a purely practical or, bread and butter 
ideal of education for the spiritual ideal which 
has so long prevailed at Oxford and Cambridge, 
it would be looked upon with distrust and mis- 
giving ; but Birmingham does not mean to 
compete with the old universities. 


io8 


TONE. 


“ The new institution will not develop a new 
ideal of education, but gives opportunity of edu- 
cation along practical lines for practical men — 
men who cannot secure the advantages of the 
older and more generous culture. 

“ Mr. Chairman, philosophy, the classics, 
mathematics, history and physics, has but a 
small place in the new institution, but the applied 
sciences, medicine, surgery, public health — 
concentrate the great bulk of the teaching ener- 
gy and force. Special attention is paid to the 
department of commercial education. — Com- 
mercial law, geography, political economy as it 
relates to commerce and the modern languages. 
This is a broadly utilitarian conception ; and 
if it were aggressive, it might seem to jeopard- 
ize the higher interests of English civilization ; 
but it is apparently the working down of edu- 
cation from the higher to the lower branches, in 
recognition of the fact that not only the man in 
the arts and profesions needs education, but the 
man in business as well. 

“ If Lord Kitchener subdues Khartoum, there 
could be no better memorial to the brave and 
noble Gordon than a donation from England 
for an extensive college in the conquered prov- 
vince. If, by intervention, by arbritration, or 
arms, we interfere in behalf of the oppressed 


10NE. 


IO9 

Islands of Spain, neither of which would mean 
defeat, for the Spanish rule — our bounden duty 
would be to give them free institutions of 
learning/ 

“ Andrew D. White tells us, ‘ it is a duty of 
society itself, a duty it cannot throw off, to see 
that the stock of talent and genius in each 
generation may have a chance for development, 
that it may be added to the world’s stock and 
aid in the world work.’ 

“ David Starr Jordan says, of his work in Min- 
nesota, ‘In 1887 I addressed the students of the 
University, and ten years later, I again stood 
on the same platform. In 1887 a few hundred 
students were housed in rude barracks, with a 
few teachers and scanty appliances. 

“ In 1897 there stood a magnificent university 
that would in no wise stand in shame if brought 
in comparison with Cambridge or Oxford or the 
still broader and sounder universities of Ger- 
many. Beautiful buildings, trained professors, 
adequate appliances, all gathered together by 
the common people ; all the work of the state, all 
part of the system of public schools with upward 
of two thousand students actually there in person, 
the controling percentage of the young men and 
women of college age in the state. In this univer- 
sity to-day is written the history of Minnesota for 


no 


IONE. 


the next century. It is an inspiring history, a 
history of freedom, of self-reliance, of wisdom 
and self-restraint.’ He says, he ‘looked forward 
to the day when the six hundred girls should, 
most of them, be centers of Minnesota homes, 
homes of culture, homes of power in the noble 
influences of which the work of the university 
should be multiplied a hundred fold.’ Then he 
says, he ‘ blessed the wisdom of the fathers for 
making our State Universities, schools for wom- 
en as for men. With thoroughness of training, 
must go sympathy and skill ; the highest func- 
tion of such schools, is the formation of character, 
the training of men and women, in purity and 
strength, in sweetness and light. 

“ What is a man good for without professional 
enthusiasm? Concentrating upon it all his ener- 
gies, and loving it with an ardor that almost 
ignores the existence of any other. It is only 
thus that he can achieve excellence or emin- 
ence.’ 

“ We come to beg of you, Mr. Chairman, a 
handsome donation to supplement a very neat 
sum we already have, for the purpose of building a 
school. Not like any of these, but one similar to 
Girard College of Philadelphia, for the out-casts 
and orphans of our state. Our state agricultural 
and Industrial schools meet a long felt want, 


IONE. 


Ill 


but still they do not reach the class I am pleading 
for. In these schools boys and girls receive 
only free tuition, and are patronized by a class 
of people able to meet a portion of their children’s 
education ; but in numberless homes of squalor 
throughout our own loved State, are bright, 
aspiring boys and girls dwaddling away their 
youth in want, misery, and crime. Will you 
extend a helping hand to the more favored 
ones, and at the same time, refuse to assist those 
forsaken by humanity, and as you, in purity feel, 
accursed of God ? 

“The income derived from the handsome, estate 
given by a friend of the friendless, for this pur- 
pose, will sustain one hundred pupils per year 
with the labor being done by their own hands 
and rigid ecomony practiced as in many of our 
schools. 

“ I come, Mr. Chairman and Senators, to be- 
seech you to increase the fifty thousand dollars to 
one hundred thousand. Do this, and God will in- 
spire some noble natures to bequeath us hand- 
some endowment funds, and years to come, with 
circumference as widening as the domains of 
humanity, and an influence as powerful as wisdom 
ever proves, you and your ancestors will behold 
a monument, incomparable in grandeur to any 
terrestrial structure, for it will be a structure of 


1 1 2 


IONE. 


beautiful human souls forming a chain from 
the very throne of God to the lowly down troden 
ones of earth. If you have doubts of the ability 
of children so situated to reach a given height, 
behold in your humble petitioner, the possibi- 
lities of the lowliest, if snatched from vicious sur- 
roundings in time, and placed in loving hands. 
Painful to me is the rehearsal of these facts, 
but if by this painful publicity, I convince one 
of you, then indeed am I repaid.” 

‘ ‘ from this day forward we shall know 
That in ourselves our safety must be sought ; 

That by our own right hand it must be wrought ; 

That we must stand unpropped, or be laid low,” 

* * * 

“We shall exult if they who rule the land 
Be men who hold its many blessings dear, 

Wise upright, valiant, not a servile band 
Who are to judge of danger which they fear 
And honor which they do not understand.” 


“ Guess they are out husband hunting,” 
whispered a cynical, bald-headed bachelor, one 
who doubtless would have made even Paul 
blush. 

“ I like the little one best, so much gentleness 
depicted in her face. A fellow could manage her 
to his own suiting,” was the reply. Both of 
them being from the backwoods district, had 


IONE. 


”3 

secured their membership of the committee on 
education only by a political pull. “ When the 
wicked rule, the people mourn, but we think all 
‘ hades ’ is alive with rejoicing.” No surer tool 
has his “ satanic majesty,” than a wicked poli- 
tical schemer ; dead to all higher motives than 
holding his office and “ filling his coffers.” He 
becomes by defeating humanitarian measures, 
more diabolical than the barbarian ruler who 
beheads his subjects. When will the enlightened 
nation awake to the grave subject of electing to 
office, men and not representatives of their 
party ? 

Salome had quietly seated herself and was con- 
gratulated by the committee, all of whom had 
become thoroughly converted and were now 
ardent friends of the bill, except the two bald- 
headed bachelors, who no doubt were made 
so by the refusal of some brunette in her teens 
a very uncertain number of years ago, judging 
from the aversion displayed by them to Salome. 

A dignified man, his hair white with the snow 
of many winters, arose, and enthusiastically 
begged the committee to give the bill, without 
a disssenting voice, a favorable report. 

Salome’s youth, beauty and self-disinterested- 
ness had awakened a responsive cord in every 
heart save the two with whom time, plus whiskey, 


IONE. 


114 

had disported himself in picking their fiery- 
skinned craniums, or, the integament of their 
brain shells, had, like all other nature “ abhored 
the vacum.” 

For half an hour he made an impassioned 
appeal to them, but when the final vote was 
taken, there were two dissenting votes, the bill 
receiving a favorable endorsement of the major- 
ity. It was reported and put on the calendar to 
be heard on its passage. 

The press gave full notice of the proceedings 
in the committee room, publishing verbatim, 
Salome’s address, and on the morning of the 
passage of the bill the gallery was filled with 
the beauty and intellect of the Capitol City. 

Shortly before the opening Salome and Muriel 
were escorted to prominent seats in the gallery 
by the Chairman of the committee. Muriel 
followed closely at his heels endeavering to thus 
screen herself from the gaze of the throng but 
Salome, with a preoccupied air, followed several 
paces in the rear. In fashionable attire with 
the air of a duchess her beauty never shone to 
better advantage. One distinguishing feature 
of her dress was the lack of plumage on her 
head, but instead, a close fitting sailor cap that 
added piquancy to her otherwise queenly beauty. 

This had been noticed by the opposite sex 


IONE. 


“5 

throughout her stay in their city, and was openly 
approved by all of them ; for if the dying cries 
of the feathered songsters that bedecked this 
audience could be heard above the whispering 
din, women would have been first to turn her 
attention to her own cruel death-dealing frivolity, 
before venturing upon the graver issues of the 
day. Beautiful aigrett’s, which the mother heron 
produces only during nesting, and the plucking 
of which causes her death, leaving motherless the 
helpless young, waved in indian fashion through- 
out the audience. The nose and ear-rings of the 
indian race have been discarded, — probably 
because of the pain to the wearer, — but the 
bedecking increases more rapidly than the other 
decreases. 

Muriel did not like to look at Salome this 
morning, there was too much of the “ old 
dreaded self ” about her. 0 The gentleman 
seated them, extended his hand to each, and 
slowly wended his way through the crowd to 
his place in the senate room. With piercing, 
willful eyes, Salome took in surroundings. 
Like many more pious souls, she had not yet 
learned fully the true meaning of “ Thy will, not 
mine be done.” But it is to be hoped she will 
never take for God’s will for what is simply 
neglected duty. 


1 1 6 


IONE. 


Our two crustaceous friends were represented 
by a colleague, tall and angular, the weight of 
whose oratory consisted mainly in gestures and 
sarcasm. Finally the Speaker’s gavel produced 
silence, and the bill of so much importance to 
Salome, — the inspired forerunner — who was 
suffering mentally and spiritually all the tortures 
of unborn generations, and countless, down-trod- 
den, helpless children, was taken up, and for two 
hours the speeches pro and con waged hotly. 
Numerous baskets of flowers were previously 
distributed among the audience by the local 
friends to the bill, and these were showered up- 
on the noble men who had espoused the cause 
and worked so hard for its passage. At 
length, when the final vote was taken, and all 
but three voted in its favor, the hand-clapping 
was deafening and threatened being continuous. 

Members of the committee first and senators 
next, crowded around Salome, extending con- 
gratulations and receiving tearful thanks. She 
was no longer the Salome that entered the house, 
for as sorrow and chastenings render sweet some 
souls, hers was made so by success. 


CHAPTER XIII 


“ Katskill Mountains 

September 30, 1897. 

My dear Salome : — 

** I have just finished reading your speech before the Educational 
Committee of the Senate in my own beloved, native state. I am 
gratified beyond measure because of your determination and will- 
power to carry to perfection your undertaking. I would have been 
distressed had my sister, at your age or any age, have even dreamed 
of undertaking such a responsibility ; but times change, and men 
change with them. 

I will not let my conservative views, entertained through all my 
earlier years, preserve from innovation the fossilized belief, for radi- 
cal changes have come, aud come to stay. Men do not beget the 
day, but the day begets the man. 

When I gave you the Homestead, with ten thousand dollars and a 
promise of Solitude at Miss Dexter’s death, for the purpose of 
building a school for boys, I had no idea of the magnitude of the 
one you were dreaming of. I know without requesting you, that 
you will preserve intact the family residence and grounds. Use 
them for a home for the president of the institution. 

If you have not otherwise decided, I would suggest that the 
new buildings be erected in the beautiful grove fronting, my boy- 
hood home. There, underneath their massive branches, where 
from my earliest rollicks to the maturer days when in idle loung- 
ing, I dreamt the future fight of life, it would be a glorious cul- 

117 


IONE. 


1 18 


mination to all my wishes to see erected, not useless ornamental 
shafts to my precious Jane’s memory, but structures of learning, the 
influence of which would be as the ware set in motion by the tiny 
pebble, until the concentric circle burst upon the shores of eter- 
nity. 

Mr. Morris, Muriel’s lawyer, will write for her affidavit. As 
soon as possible, have it taken, for when that is attended to, I 
shall make arrangements to join my fleet, for the hostile feelings 
that are daily increasing toward the Spanish misrule in Cuba, may 
soon bring my services into urgent demand. 

Tell Muriel her letter was duly received, and that I will answer 
soon. She writes appreciative words of your kind treatment to 
her. My health is considerably improved ; I walk without my 
crutch now. I will make out and forward you immediately the 
deeds, and then you can transfer them to the school. Use tact in 
selecting committees, and with all haste urge the matter through. 

May God bless you abundantly for your interest in others ; you 
will find in your school, some too lost to good, or void of any 
ambition to improve, but careful tillage will soon erase from the 
earth, most of the tares and a rich harvest of bright minds and 
elevated souls will reward you. 

Remember me to the boys. Give my love to Muriel and the 
children and accept, my sister’s ward, the portion due you. Hop- 
ing to hear from you soon I am, 

Yours Truly, 

Ulpian Grey.” 

Taking Dr. Grey at his word, Salome lost no 
time in furthering her plans. A competent, re- 
sponsible local committee, was appointed to 
work with the senate committee and arrange- 
ments were discussed and plans drawn up 


10NE. 


H 9 

subject to a final inspection by the promoter. 
The ground in the oak grove designated by 
Dr. Grey, was surveyed and a handsome iron 
fence placed around it. The felling of the trees 
in way of the proposed buildings seemed like 
desecration, and Salome longed to see them 
replaced by the structures themselves. 

The massive red brick walls as they slowly 
grew, lumber and loose material of all kinds 
scattered over the once beautiful lawn, made 
alive by the sturdy workmen, with bared arms 
and sun-browned faces, wrought in all beholders 
a sense of enlargement and progression. Salome 
viewed the scene, rendered deafening by the 
noise of saw and hammer, then crossed the 
road, entered the grounds of the old home, most 
loved of all earthly homes by her, because of 
both the pain and pleasure she had experienced 
there. She wandered around and climbed up in 
the fork of the same tree from which she had 
just descended when the “ interloper ” changed 
the whole texture of her life. 

In imagination she beheld him with his man- 
ly, military bearing crossing the lawn to greet 
her, and remembered with flushing cheeks the 
many pains she had caused him. Again she 
heard Miss Jane’s gentle remonstances and ex- 
cuses for her short-comings and she knew that 


120 


IONE. 


to her, of all others, she owed what she was ; for 
aside from the material aid rendered her, Miss 
Jane’s faith in her was the compelling power to 
nobler actions. 

“ He that forever warns me 
Of dangers in my way, 

Who doubts my strength to meet them 
And bids me ever stay, 

May truly seek to shield me, 

May wish me well, but he 
Whose faith is inspiration 
He is the friend for me.” 

In her hand she held Dr. Grey’s letter. She 
had buried her face in its folds and kissed the 
signature until it was rumpled beyond his rec- 
ognition. In every sentence and word, she had 
sought the hundredth time for just a hint of his 
feelings being changed toward her, but defeat 
of hope rewarded every reading. Still she was 
not without a belief that it was obtainable, but, 

“ She hoped humbly, and with trembling pinions soared.” 

Far across the fields and into the heart of the 
wood-land she could see the path that led her 
home from the sea, on the night of the painful 
meeting with Dr. Grey. And Muriel ! How she 
had misjudged her, and how she repented now 
having caused her one pain in past years. 


IONE. 


I 2 I 


If we only knew the sorrow that comes to 
each heart, we would inflict no wound ; if we 
only knew the circumstances surrounding, we 
would blame less the transgressor. If her heart 
lacked love and sympathy toward her family in 
her early years, she was atoning for it now by 
opening her heart fully to them and all human- 
ity. She blamed her parents for bequeathing 
to her poverty and ignorance, but to-day she 
recognized the fact that they had imparted to 
her ambition and power to succeed, and for the 
first time in her life she blessed the name of her 
father, cried out in tender yearning for a 
mother’s love, and thanked God he had created 
her. 

There is no better place for one to get on the 
right road, than the one at which we started 
wrong, and here in the tree-fork where her first 
evil passions were begotten, came to her pure 
contrition, and the noblest resolves of her life. 

As she agilely descended to mother earth, she 
thought with amusement of what Miss Jane 
would say if she could see her in her becoming 
bicycle-suit this morning. Her short gray skirt 
reached the top of her gaiters, jaunty jacket of 
the same material unbuttoned in front revealed 
the red vest and collar ; and with tie and cap 
the same color as the dress, hair blown in curls 


122 


lONE. 


and frizzes around face and neck ; the former 
somewhat sunburnt, and cheeks crimson from 
the excitement of her ride, there could be no 
better specimen of a well mind and soul in a 
healthy body. But all this she knew would be 
lost sight of by Aunt Jane in her consternation 
at beholding a young lady so rigged out. 

The boys being absent in the meadow, she 
called to the faithful dog, that loved so much 
his absent master, stooped down and laid her 
cheek against his neck because she had often 
seen Dr. Grey place his hand there. “ He has 
gone from us,” she said, while caressing him, 
“ but some time he will return.” 

She visited the farm-yard, the sheep and Jer- 
seys in the clover lot, and then with aching 
heart mounted the wheel and started home- 
ward. 

Before she reached the house, she met Muriel 
and the children coming to meet her. Dismount- 
ing, she gave Stanley the wheel, placed her arm 
around Muriel’s waist and with Jessie’s hand in 
hers they slowly walked on drinking in the 
beauties of the morning, both of them looking 
as clear as 

“ Morning roses newly washed with dew.” 

Salome tried to be cheerful, but since he had 
gone, 


IONE. 


1*3 


“ The robin’s note had touched a minor strain 
The old songs breathe a sad refrain 
And laughter sobs with hidden bitter pain, 
Since he had gone,” 



CHAPTER XIV. 

HAD a long letter from Miss 
Dexter this morning Salome, her 
pictures of the suffering Cubans 
are terrible. She says that fully 
seventy-five per cent of helpless women, 
children and non-combatant men affected by 
cruel Weyler’s starvation policies are dead, and 
that in spite of Gen. Blanco’s more humane 
orders, the mortality continues to be frightful.’ 
She does not seem alarmed about herself ; does 
not dread the ravages of the fever, or fear an 
invasion of Havana by the insurgents ; is 
much improved in health and thinks, ‘ but for 
the cruelty and tyranny of Spain, Cuba would 
be a great, natural, infirmary for weak lungs.’ 

“ With an introduction from Dr. Grey, she 
paid her respects to our much admired and truly 
beloved by all southerners — Consul General 
Lee ? 

“ They were schoolmates one term, you know, 
Salome, and since Lee’s prominence in his fear- 



124 


lONE. 


I2 5 

less criticism of Spanish cruelty in Cuba, Dr. 
Grey often related little anecdotes of their 
school-life, that plainly revealed the inherent 
bravery, and fearless sense of right in Lee when 
a boy. I wish Miss Dexter would leave Cuba ; 
I shall insist on her returning to our own south- 
ern coast for the winter, if she thinks she cannot 
brave the climate further north. She says ‘ all 
Americans are held in distrust by the Spaniards, 
which renders it extremely critical for them to 
live there,’ but she seems to have no fear of any 
thing. Poor dear ! I think she feels her days are 
numbered and cares not how or where the re- 
mainder are spent, dreading nothing only ina- 
bility to perform a seeming duty. I know her 
heart aches, and it will shorten her days to have 
to witness so much torture and suffering and be 
unable to alleviate it. 

“ Our own Mrs. Thurston proved this by suc- 
cumbing on her short visit among the reconcen- 
trados. She says, ‘ General Blanco has attempt 
ted to overthrow the revolutionary cause by 
trying to induce General Gomez to leave the 
island, but the patriot scorns to be bribed with 
a life pension and a safe retreat. ’ I honor him 
for his patriotism to his native land, but I can- 
not understand why Miss Dexter persists in 
exposing herself to dangers, when her presence 
in no way eradicates them.” 


IONE. 


I 26 


“ Has she any funds of her own ? ” asked 
Salome. 

“Yes, a few thousand dollars, but what is that 
toward helping a starving nation ? ” 

“ Distributed with care and judgement by her 
own hands, Muriel, it will feed many starving 
ones. Her barque is launched with other 
hands at the oar, she will get safely into port; 
and the earlier the helmsman sights the other 
landing, the more she will rejoice.” 

And, not in vain embodied to the sight, 

Religion finds even in the stern retreat 
Of feudal sway her own appropriate seat ; 

* * * * 

“ Seek in domestic oratory small, 

For prayer in stillness, or the chanted rite ; 

Then chiefly dear, when foes are planted round. 

Who teach the intrepid guardians of the place — 

Hourly exposed to death, with famine worn 
And suffering under many a perilous wound — 

How sad would be their durance, if forlorn 
Of offices dispensing heavenly grace ! ’ ’ 

After repeating these lines to Muriel, Salome 
drew her closer to her and talked of other things. 
Stanley preceeded them, and rode briskly up the 
wide terrace, Jessie bounded away to watch the 
minnows in the pool around the fountain that 
sent its sprays, sparkling like a million diamonds 


IONE. 


127 


in the rays of sunshine that were playing at hide 
and seek in their bold endeavor to pierce the 
thick-leaved elms, as they waved and turned in 
the October breeze. They like many souls 
striving to hold their own and accomplish a 
given purpose, feeling, by inspiration the short 
time allotted them before the frosts of winter 
will cut them to the ground, and their own rich 
lives proving fertilization for a coming genera- 
tion that must needs be better and of larger 
growth because of the enrichment. 

Tall urns displayed rich masses of fuchias 
and ivory geraniums. Double, fragrant petu- 
nias bloomed in the sunniest spots. The railing 
at the lower end of the walk was covered with 
red and white cypress ; the many hued beds of 
coleus and achthyanthus were growing richer 
in the autumn sunshine, bordered with 
great circles of sweet alysum ; the mock 
bananas, cannas and caludiums surrounding the 
lake with many luxuriant, trellised vines, dot- 
ting the whole enclosure, rendered it a vision 
of loveliness. But soon the frosts will come and 
it will take fresh cultivation to produce a like 
effect. So is all life. The love that Salome 
valued above earthly attainments was fed and 
fostered by the many virtues and excellencies of 
the beloved object. 


128 


IONE. 


The love of the boy upon reaching the age of 
twenty will not satisfy at thirty, unless the 
object has grown with his growth. The man of 
forty-five would not choose for his second wife 
the same girl in her teens, if possible, he chose 
the first time. The many little attractions so 
lovable then, would be stale now, but the same 
creature remaining by his side, growing with his 
growth, attaining the perfect womanhood, as he 
had reached the fuller man, would satisfy every 
want. The saddened face of the woe-begone 
man, who has married a girl in her teens, after 
he has brought up one family of children, betrays 
his illusion, and she proves a merited nuisance 
the rest of his days. 

“ While the fond soul, 

Wrapt in gay visions of unreal bliss, 

Still paints the illnsive form.’’ 



CHAPTER XV. 

HOUGH lone knew and felt she 
would never gain Eugene Morris’ re- 
spect, much less love, by her present 
mode of living, she was helpless to 
change it. She was in the maelstrom of fashion- 
able frivolity, and might as well try to stay the 
rush of the foaming waters of Niagara as extri- 
cate herself while in their midst. 

“ Cursed be the social wants that sin against the strength of youth ! 

Curse’d be the social lies that warp us from the living truth ! 

Curse’d be the sickly forms that err from honest Natures rule ! 

Curse’ d be the gold that gilds the straightened forehead of the 
fool ! ” 

If her friends smiled, she must smile ; if she 
dined out, she must give dinners, often to very 
unpleasant, uncongenial people ; if her set took 
up a new fad, she must not object but enter 
wholly into their views ; if they demanded art, 
she must be an artist ; if only classical, difficult 
music ; she must abandon the sweet old airs of 
her mother’s girlhood ; if they played cards and 

1 29 




1 3 ° 


IONE. 


danced, she would appear rude not to partici- 
pate. Women are servile to a thonsand usages 
and styles equally as harmful to body — and 
much more so to morals — as the encumbering 
dress of modern days. The love that had come 
to her awakened womanhood, was strengthening 
the vessel for the rich wine it must contain. 

With disgust she followed in the wake of her 
leaders — a mechanical toy, doing all the antics 
of a modern society girl — but her heart was far 
from surroundings ; and was craving and dream- 
ing out some way to a nobler, fuller life. The 
exchange of compliments — empty bubbles as 
they were to her — made her to wonder if all 
the world was living an untruth. She had no 
idea of life outside her circle, and shrank more 
from making any change, than the silly, ignorant 
mountain girl would from imitating or inspiring 
to loftier heights. 

Her friends guyed her about her pre-occupied 
air, her mother scolded her about her aversion 
to, and disinterestedness in her circle of friends ; 
but her father appreciated, at least, the lack of 
social gossip and chatter they were wont to en- 
tertain him with, during his few hours at home, 
for instead, lone sought to lead him out on 
graver questions than he thought her competent 
to understand. Not that he had any particular 


IONE. 


1 3 l 

status for woman’s ability, he had never given 
it thought enough, but just in a way judged all 
the sex by his own mother and sisters, who were 
simply faithful, domestic'creatures ; and his wife 
who was a slave to the demands of society. 

As the wife, or mother, who has stepped be- 
yond all rules of common sense, and rants of 
“ woman’s wrongs ” until husband or son, thinks 
all femininty a rasping, be-draggled tool for 
man’s sarcasm, so are we all in general, apt to 
confound the mass, in keeping with the few of 
our acquaintance. 

Mr. Chilton loved his wife and daughter in 
the way he had been taught, seeking mental 
sympathy and comradeship in his male friends. 
Mrs. Chilton thought that man’s sole and only 
duty was to pay bills, go out with her when the 
occasion demanded, and always appear at his 
best when she entertained ; relating to her the 
scandals she otherwise would fail to hear and by 
his professional insight, keep her posted of the 
financial status of those by whom she was 
surrounded. 

Mrs. Chilton was discovering that she was 
failing in all of her matrimonial schemes to in- 
terest lone. Once she listened passively, and 
endeavored to enter into the intrigues of her 
mother, but now, she would turn away with a 


x 3 2 


IONE. 


scornful lip and do the perverest of things in her 
presence ; thus rendering herself willful and dis- 
respectful, and instead of becoming better, she 
found her list of faults growing. 

Ever since she became helplessly in love with 
Eugene Morris, she avoided him as much as she 
could without attracting notice. And as he had 
never suspected her feelings, he thought it 
was because he could not, and would not enter 
into the frivolities in which she was engaged. 
Little did he dream that she hung upon every 
word that fell from his lips. Often, when sitting 
apart with some silly “ blonde of a man,” her 
eyes upon the floor, while the blonde talked of 
nothing, she was catching every word that fell 
from Eugene’s lips, his rich baritone voice vi- 
brating every fibre of her being. 

If he clasped her hands in bidding farewell, 
she pressed her hand to her lips and kissed the 
palm that had rested in his. 

The winter season was upon them. Novem- 
ber with all its snow and ice, doing just like 
nature is always doing, covering up the faults of 
her handiwork, or rather, that which had been 
marred by man. For three days the snow had 
fallen gently, great white flakes drifting slowly 
down covering up alike roof of mansion and 
tenement. 


IONE. 


I 33 


And now it was piled everywhere ; the pedes- 
trian hurried as best he could, the school-boy 
shouted with glee and frolicked with his mates, 
tossing the balls that told with accuracy the na- 
tivity of the thrower ; with gay heart the young 
lady of affluence, dreamed of sleigh-bells and 
skates, but the shop-girl saw in it, extra bills for 
more and heavier wear ; the aged and decrepit 
— homeless and in poverty dire — shuddered 
with cold, and crept nearer the embers. 
Gayest of seasons to Gotham, a city with thou- 
sands of homeless, houseless people of all ages, 
writhing in the agony of cold and hunger. 

Many plans for lone’s entertainment were 
formed by her fond, indulgent mother, but like 
a bomb in their midst, she announced her inten- 
tion to spend the winter months with her father’s 
maiden-aunt in Virginia. All entreaties were 
used in vain. The spoiled girl had her own way 
and on the first of December, she waved a fare- 
well to a laughing, jolly crowd of friends at the 
depot. A willing exile from her native home. 

After countless artificial lights had flown by 
her window, she emerged into darkness, penetra- 
ted only by the winter stars, and 

‘ ‘ Across the iron silence of the night 

A keen wind fitfully creeps, and far away 
The nothern ridges glimmer faintly bright, 


134 


IONE. 


Like hills on some dead planet hard and gray. 

Divinely from the icy sky look down 
The deathless stars that sparkle overhead. 

The Wain, the Herdsman, and the northern crown, 

And yonder, westward, large and balefully red, 

Arcturus, brooding over fierce resolves : 

Like mystic dancers in the arctic air 
The troops of the Aurora shift and spin ; 

The Dragon strews his bale-fires and within 
His trailing and prodigious loop involves 
The lonely Pole-star and the lesser Bear.” 

As she gazed upon the night she pressed her 
throbbing temple against the cold window-pane, 
and in her heart, repeated “ The Broken Mir- 
ror.” 

“ ‘ Because this heart of mine can bear no more, 

Let break (I said) at least I shall not see 
One, one, one image then perpetually, 

Whichever way I turn $ and as of yore 
Within my breast all things perchance shall be 
(Save only Life ! ”) 

lone had often visited her Aunt Amelia when 
a child, and once or twice during her girlhood 
school-days, but after she had grown to be a 
young lady her mother could permit of no such 
loss of time. lone had now, however, taken the 
reins in her own hands, proposed either holding 
them, or doing the driving herself. She gave 
her aunt no notice of her coming save a tele- 


IONE. 


*35 


gram she had sent her after reaching the depot, 
in New York, consequently, her aunt did not 
get to make the usual preparations for her com- 
ing, which had always consisted in fruit-cake, 
(of which lone in earlier years, dreamed and 
tasted in imagination during the six months in- 
terim of her visit) plum-pudding, custards and 
sweets, galore. But instead, she brought out 
her best preserves and jellies and “ Aunt Mari- 
ah,” the faithful servant of “ ante bellum ” days, 
who preferred still “ libin’ wif her white fo’ks, 
to wanderin’ roun’ like a isrelite,” baked her 
best waffles and hot biscuit. 

Aunt Amelia met her niece with open arms, 
at the station two miles from her home, and 
lone smiled inwardly as she thought of the con- 
sternation aunt Amelia’s many and loud ejacu- 
lations of welcome would produce on her 
aspiring mother. But she thought, “ at least, 
I have found something real, my father’s only 
sister who idolized her younger brother — even 
after he became ambitious to win fame, and 
sordid to win gold — cannot fail to be sincere 
in her love for his child.” Their drive home 
was cold, but soon they entered the long avenue 
of cedars and tall poplars, at the end of which 
a huge gate was thrown open by a small negro 
boy, and lone alighted and tripped across the 


136 


IONE 


lawn to the front steps, where stood aunt Mariah, 
— - her immense shawl drawn so far over her 
head, “ to keep out de coF an’ r’umatiz,” that 
lone did not recognize her, until Mariah 
grabbed her hand and hugged her as she did 
when a child. 

“ Haint she des growed b’utiful, Miss Milie ? 
So like her farder wen he war a young man, 
afore he done went of to de city an’ study his 
head white. Don’ you see dem eyes, black as 
night, an’ cheeks des like my goncher rose ? ” 
All this was said as the oM servant led the way 
into her mistress room and placed the best 
chair in the warmest corner for lone. 

Next day and the succeeding week was bright 
and clear and lone put to good use the 
favorable surroundings, by putting on one of 
her aunt’s aprons, and assisting and taking les- 
sons of aunt Mariah in the kitchen. The old 
negro felt complimented and was happy beyond 
expression to have once more youth and beauty 
flitting around her, asking for advice, and be- 
stowing friendly pats when her good, — but 
queerly expressed to lone — directions proved 
charming successes. But she was surprised when 
lone told her that it was not so much cakes and 
sweet things she wished to excel in, as delica- 
cies for the sick. 


IONE. 


*37 


“ Now what you finking ’bout, Miss Onie ? 
You’s got no sick folk to wait on, less my dear 
young massa done go an’ broke hisself down 
readin’ all dem big books an’ runnin’ roun’ like 
dey say he does.” 

“ No, father’s health is perfect Auntie, but I 
might get sick myself, and want to instruct peo- 
ple what to prepare for me.” 

“ Now jes’ like you gwyne get sick. All dem 
roses on yo’ cheek don’ look like invalid folks. 
Wonder if you fink I’se gwyne let you trouble 
you poor sick head about sich like. I’se never 
bin ’customed to havin’ my ’bility doubted, 
but den I reckon you city folks done got ’bove 
poor old black mammy an’ wants som’fin finer 
dan any her ole niger dishes.” 

The offended air of aunt Mariah both alarmed 
and amused lone, but her smiles must be sup- 
pressed for the privacy of her own room. So 
in a beseeching manner, she rushed up to the 
poor, true-hearted, wrinkled faced darkey, 
grasped both her hands and implored her par- 
don. 

“ I was jesting, Auntie, I did not mean what 
I said, I will tell you soon the truth about the 
matter.” The affair ended by lone making her 
a lovely cap that afternoon, and aunt Mariah 
felt that she had sustained her dignity and that 


! 3 8 


TONE. 


lone truly recognized in her a superior per- 
son. 

Next week, after lone felt she had acquired 
some little knowledge of compounding delicacies, 
she said to her Aunt Amelia, one morning : 

“ How far did you say it was to the town of 
Y ? ” 

“ Fifteen miles by railway,” was the reply. 

“ Can I go up of a morning, and come back 
at night, Auntie ? ” 

“Yes, by rising and breakfasting before five, 
you can get back by nine o’clock that night.” 

“ Well, as the station is in sight, aunt Amelia, 
I shall not mind going to and from, if you will 
let Joseph Jefferson, our versatile colored boy, 
accompany me.” 

“ I shall not mind going with you myself, 
lone,” her aunt replied. “ I have been thinking 
of going for some time.” 

“ But auntie, I want to go every day for a 
month or two.” 

“What for child ? You have no relatives, or 
even friends that I know of there. What is in 
your head lone ? ” 

“ They have a very excellent, highly recom- 
— 'ed training school r nurses there, auntie, 

and I am going to fit myself for a hosoital 
»> 


nurse. 


IONE. 


139 


“ Does your father and mother know this, 
lone.” 

“ No, neither do I wish them to know it just 
now.” 

“ Do you think you are treating them right ? ” 
“ Are they treating me right to raise me a 
helpless encumberance to them, or any one I 
happen to be dependent upon ? ” 

“ But your father will have sufficient means 
to always take care of you, dear child.” 

“ Riches do not bring happiness, aunt, only 
in some path of faithfully performed duty can 
we reach that. My dear aunt, I am heartily sick 
of being a simpering, silly member of a set that 
has no higher ambition than the gratification of 
their own desire for entertainment and amuse- 
ment. I could have taken this training at home, 
but I knew neither father or mother would per- 
mit, and I ask you to faithfully guard my secret 
until I have mastered the profession, then I 
think I can gain at least father’s permission to 
make myself in some little degree useful.” 

“ The female part of the Chilton family have 
always been noted for their retirement and con- 
servatism,” her aunt replied. I hope you will 
do nothing to mar past record, lone.” . Jf(J 
“ If I am not scorched and deformed by the 
embers of fashionable life, where I was bartering 


140 


IONE. 


both body and soul, I know that I cannot be, in 
conscientiously devoting my life to the ameliora- 
tion of human woes and suffering. If I am not 
mistaken, auntie, my father’s aunt served as a 
nurse for two years in the cruel, civil war, and 
while I have no hope of ever accomplishing the 
good she did, I have the comfort of not being 
the only female Chilton who has aspired to the 
honorable profession. 

Miss Amelia gracefully acknowledged the 
corrections of her assertion, and bade her God- 
speed in her endeavor. 

The next week found lone installed at the 
great training department for hospital nurses, and 
her buoyant health and strong nerves proved 
priceless in her laborious, trying work. The 
Christmas holiday, that had always been her 
gayest season, this year found her in neat cap 
and apron, pouring over physiology, making 
tempting dainties for some convalescent, or 
watching beside some frantic child or aged 
adult. 

Some days she would grow tired and almost 
resolve to give up her scheme, but one thankful, 
appreciative glance from her patient for ease 
and rest given them by her dainty hands, would 
fully repay her wearied brain and tired limbs. 

Aunt Amelia thought the craze would wear 


IONE. 


I41 

off after a few mornings early rising to catch 
the five o’clock train, or loneliness over the late 
return at night, but neither proved a sufficient 
barrier. 

Joseph Jefferson shivered in the morning, 
yawned at night, and to all her pennies and 
dimes he would have been glad to have turned 
his back, and thus, gained several hours sound 
sleep. 

Aunt Mariah shook her head, expressing grave 
forebodings “ ob de outcome ob Ole Marsser’s 
’scendants, re’ly takin’ de men’s places.” 

Christmas day, as lone tenderly helped a fond 
mother nurse her only child after a painful op- 
eration, she would occassionally let her mind 
revert to home and surroundings ; but at the 
going down of the sun the little life went out, 
and she was forced to be chief consoler to the 
broken-hearted parent. She experienced for 
quite the first time in life, an inward feeling of 
that which comes alone to the self-ridden phil- 
anthropist. 

At her aunt’s that night, she found piles of 
costly express packages from her far off home ; 
but with the exception of a Christmas card from 
Eugene Morris, she would not have exchanged 
the wretched mother’s appreciation of her untir- 
ing devotion to her darling, for them all. 


142 


IONE. 


The words of greetings and most happy wish- 
es were formed, but she pressed her lips to his 
signature, and slept with the card pressed be- 
tween her cheek and pillow. 

Dreams of tall spires, Christmas and sleigh- 
bells, mingled with voices of loved ones, visited 
her, but promptly at the usual hour, she departed 
in the darkness of the cold morning for her 
place of duty. 

Can we doubt the richness of her soul, for her 
love for one man alone had prompted her to 
these arduous labors ? Cable says that “ all true 
love draws its strength and fragrance from the 
riches not of the loved ones, but of the lover’s 
soul.” 

Aunt Amelia was equally remembered in the 
number and costliness of the Christmas presents ; 
a nice black silk dress with cap to match for 
aunt Mariah, that “ most put her beside herself,” 
and a crisp five dollar bank-note for Joseph Jef- 
ferson, which was soon laid out in fire-works, 
numerous useless toys and candies. 

“ Make way for liberty ! 

* * * 

“ And now a nation great and strong and free, 

For Cuba cries, ‘ America, go ! Liberty thy theme, 
Release the Cuban from the Spanish sway, 

Thank God no cursed concert can thee stay ! ” 


CHAPTER XVL 

SHORT time after the inauguration 
of William McKinley, as President of 
the United States, in March 1897, it 
became apparent that the disordered 
condition of Cuba under Spanish rule, was de- 
stined inevitably to become an issue which the 
United States must help to settle. 

For two years a great part of the Island had 
been in open and determined revolt against 
Spain, though the forces of the King had been 
able to hold the sea-ports, thus cutting off the 
insurgents from regular communication with the 
outer world, and making important their efforts 
to secure recognition from foreign powers. The 
patriots, under Generals Maceo and Gomez, had 
held control of the interior, established a gov- 
ernment of their own, enforced order and levied 
taxes. 

Enormous sacrifices were made by the Span- 
ish people to re-establish sovereignty in the 
island. More than three hundred thousand 



143 


144 


IONE. 


troops were sent thither to be cruelly cut down 
by plague and pestilence. A nation, long on 
the verge of bankruptcy, incurred uncomplain- 
ingly, prodigious additional indebtedness, to 
save for its boy King — Alphonse XIII, who 
was but twelve years old — its most precious 
possessions in the west, the “ Pearl of the An- 
tilles.” 

Queen Isabella of Spain pawned her jewels 
that Columbus might have the means to press 
his voyage of discovery into unknown seas, but 
in the closing years of the nineteenth century, 
the people of Spain pawned their national assets, 
— put even themselves and their prosterity in 
pawn — to hold for Spain, the last relics of the 
empire which Columbus won for her. But the 
Spanish people were cruelly betrayed by their 
own rulers. The generals whom they sent to 
Cuba gave less thought to the suppression of 
the insurrection than to filling their own 
pockets. 

Out of the millions and millions of piasters 
set aside by an already impoverished people for 
the needs of war, a great part was stolen by 
generals and army contractors. The young con- 
script, sent from Spain, — not a proud volunteer 
eager to serve his country, but a conscript — 
to a land where the air itself was pestilential to 


IONE. 


*45 


the unacclimated, they were clothed and shod 
in shoddy ; their food invited disease, and 
when they fell ill it was found that the greed of 
the officers had consumed the funds that should 
have provided sufficient hospital service. Com- 
paratively few fell before the bullets or machetes 
of the insurgents, — for the revolutionists 
adopted the tactics of the Fabius — but by 
thousands they succumbed to fevers of every 
kind. Death without glory was the hapless lot 
of the Spanish conscript. 

The disparity in weapons made it imperative 
that the insurgents should avoid pitched battles, 
and as war of this sort inevitably developes into 
the most cruel and barbarious, it was truly so in 
this case. 

That Cuba might be made desolate, unable to 
pay anything toward the price of its own sub- 
jection, the insurgents relentlessly destroyed 
standing crops, mills^and railroads. That the 
peaceful inhabitants — the pacificos — might not 
give aid or comfort to the revolutionists, 
General Weyler caused them to be driven from 
their farms and herded in the towns still under 
Spanish Control. 

There they stayed in squalid huts or under 
thatched sheds and starved, and if the braver, 
more reckless among them rebelled, they were 
slaughtered like sheep. 


146 


IONE. 


Systematically, Spain planned to crush Cuba; 
not by fighting the revolutionists, but by starv- 
ing women and children, old men and peaceful 
farm hands. It is conservatively estimated, that 
more than five hundred thousand people had 
been starved to death before the United States 
interfered. 

History in coming ages, however, will relate 
to the undying honor and glory of the American 
people, that humanitarian considerations, rather 
than regard for imperilled interests, brought 1 
them into a war, which most emphatically their 
people did not desire. 

But at this time, almost as if planned by some 
all-knowing power, came a great and inexplica- 
ble disaster, which made American intervention 
inevitable and immediate. On the night of 
February 15th, 1898, the Battleship Maine lay 
quietly at the anchorage in Havana harbor. 
Her great white hull, with lights shining bril- 
liantly from the after ports, where the officer’s 
quarters were located, gleamed in the star- 
light. 

On the berth deck, tne men swung sleeping in 
their hammocks. The watch on deck breathed 
gratefully, the cool evening air after the long 
tropic day. Captain Sigsbee was writing in his 
cabin and the officers in the wardroom, were 


IONE. 


147 


chatting over their games or dozing over their 
books. The lights of the city and the ancient 
fortress of Morro, shone brightly through the 
purpling light. 

Word of love and cheer to the aged parents— 
words of home-sickness to the young wife and 
babies were being penned by some. 


“The wistful stars 

Shine like good memories. 

The young morning wind 
Blows full of unforgotten hours. 

As over a region of roses. 

Life and Death. 

Sound on — sound on 
And the night magical, 

Troubled yet comforting, thrills 

As if at the qnchanted castle at the heart 

Of the wood’s dark wonderment 

Swung wide his valves, and filled the dim sea-banks 

With exquisite visitants.’’ 

At half-past nine, the wakeful ones on board 
heard a dull explosion, followed by a slight 
shock, then a prolonged, deep furious roar which 
shook the ship to its very vitals, and <5ur beau- 
tiful vessel suddenly became a flaming volcano 
belching forth fire, men, huge pieces of steel, 
and bursting shells. Two hundred and sixty 
six of our sailor boys had answered for the last 
time their earthly roll-call. 


148 


IONE. 


The news of the great disaster was received 
at home with horror, which speedily turned to 
anger. An outraged people demanded that our 
brave American sailors be avenged, and out- 
raged Cuba set free from the galling yoke of 
Spanish bondage, and on the twenty-third of 
April, 1898, President McKinley signed the pro- 
clamation calling for one hundred and twenty 
thousand volunteers. 

From all quarters, the call was enthusiastically 
received, tempered with that trembling forebod- 
ing which always accompanies the call to arms. 

The veteran of other wars repeated tales of 
suffering, defeat, or victory as he had encount- 
ered them in the far away past ; grandmothers 
told of sons that never returned, — brave, manly 
youths like these of to-day — women of husbands 
whose burrying-place was unknown, and others 
spoke of fathers they had never seen. But all 
this failed to subdue the enthusiasm. 

Every state gave her full quota, and foremost 
in the number, was New York. Mr. Chilton 
received his commission and in a few days had 
enrolled his full company. Eugene Morris, with 
many others from this city and state, joined 
Roosevelt’s command at San Antonio. 

The clanking of the officer’s side arms could 
be heard on every side, with the drill, drill 


IONE. 


149 


that a hasty call necessitates. Business was 
demoralized for a time, and from East to West 
an undertone of solemn awe pervaded the na- 
tion. 

In one week from the declaration, Commodore 
Dewey wiped from the Asiatic waters, the Span- 
ish Squadron commanded by Admiral Montejo, 
and this without the loss of a man from the 
American navy, but hundreds killed and wound- 
ed of the Spanish fleet. The report created wild 
enthusiasm. Generals with their commands 
clamored for recognition and transportation to 
the scenes of warfare. 

The greater number of our war vessels were 
kept busy guarding the Atlantic coast, blockad- 
ing Cuba and hunting for the mystical Spanish 
fleet under Admiral Cervera. Troops were 
mobilized at different convenient points. At 
Chickamauga, the great historical battle-ground 
of the northern and southern forces during the 
civil war, fifty thousand troops were encamped. 
There, the veteran of the blue and the old 
soldier of the gray met in peace, where once 
the hills ran blood from the conflict of two op- 
posing armies; where once two separate military 
bands played “Yankee Doodle” and Dixie,” 
this call to meet a foreign foe, eradicated all 
sectional feelings and the regimental bands from 


IONE. 


* 5 ° 

Maine played Dixie, while that from southern 
Mississipi played the airs of their once northern 
foes, until the tall hills and historic “old Look- 
out ” echoed the strains. 

At Tampa a great camp was established in 
hopes to somewhat climatize the troops to a 
southern clime before sending them to tropical 
isles. Captain Chilton’s regiment was ordered 
to Tampa, there to battle with heat and pesti- 
lential fevers during the spring and early sum- 
mer months. Mrs. Chilton for once in her life 
was awakened to a sense of the responsibility of 
life. 

Life had been so complete to her narrow self, 
that she never thought of change. lone’s ex- 
tended visit to her aunt both worried and sad- 
dened her, but no sooner was war a certainty, 
than lone packed her trunks and hastened to 
the home or her birth. 

She was distressed beyond measure when she 
found her father had been commissioned, urging 
him to resign and let some younger man take 
his place, but the patriotic blood of ancestors, 
male and female, flowed too strongly in his veins 
to stand idly by while his country called for 
help. They knew nothing of the way their 
daughter had spent her time in the south, sup- 
posed in idleness and seclusion, but the wide 


JONE. 


* 5 * 


awake, earnest girl that came back to them did 
not seem like the lone of old. Her words of 
comfort came nearer than any other’s in consol- 
ing her mother. 

Her father found her a helper in all his plans, 
arranging the many little details that only 
trained, loving, skillful feminine hands know 
how to arrange. So complete was his medicine- 
case, that he supposed she had some physician 
arrange it, little dreaming his daughter had 
spent days learning to prepare for such an emer- 
gency. Snow-white balls of bandages were 
closely packed with the medicines, showing that 
the donor feared more the wounds of the enemy 
than miasma and pestilence. 

Oh, the heart-breaking yearnings of the 
women as they watch the loved ones depart ! 
Love, dread, sympathy, honor, alternately pos- 
sesses them. To the volunteer is granted the 
changes of scenes and country ; laborious work 
that makes night welcome and sleep a certainty, 
wild enthusiasm over the prospect of encounter- 
ing the enemy and winning fame and honor. But 
the women must sit in the same corner, beside 
the same hearth-stone, and view from days to 
years, with aching hearts and straining eyes, the 
empty chairs and last worn clothes of the 
absent heroes. 


152 


IONE. 


In the same manner that lone had prepared 
her father’s necessities, she asked permission to 
arrange Mr. Morris’. No useless encumberances 
were included but simply the manageable 
necessities. He went as a private (all honor to 
his name) with the regiment of “Rough Riders.” 
Mr. Chilton bade a fond adieu to wife and 
daughter, and started for the extreme south one 
week before Morris left for the west. 

Every opportunity he found amid his rushing 
preparations for departure, he called to see the 
lonely mother and daughter, and toward the end 
of the week alloted him, he noticed a strange 
light had come into lone’s eyes but attributed 
it to her grief for her father. There was no 
hysterical collapse on her part, but a brave trust 
that renders spiritual, its possessor. Her best 
loved earthly parent was gone, probably never 
to return, and now the man that possessed her 
whole heart was going — Oh God ! She dare 
not think, where. 

If he addressed her, she answered in mono- 
syllables, for she dare not trust herself to he led 
into a conversation of surroundings and his 
early departure. The congealed life-blood was 
making livid her tightly compressed lips. If 
only he knew, she believed she could better have 
borne it, but she could not summon courage to 


10NE. 


*53 


over-step the conservative views of her family ; 
views as old as time, and as he attributed her 
coldness to indifference to him, an insurmount- 
able barrier seperated them. 

How tall and gentle he looked in his plain, but 
becoming uniform, and added to that his erect 
military bearing, regular features, and matchless 
physical build, he would have proven irrisisti- 
ble to any but the most indifferent woman. But 
to all these, lone was blind, for to her his 
character and soul were the attracting magnets. 

At length, the parting came. Mrs. Chilton 
weepingly bade him a motherly farewell, but 
lone could but place her icy hand in his and 
say, “ God bless you,” to which he returned a 
pressing clasp with his own warm hand, and a 
shower of benedictions on her head ; then turned 
and with soldierly strides hastily left the room, 
mounted his horse and rode away. Rode away ! 
Only God knew to where. 

lone consoled her mother as best she could. 
Every day she prevailed upon her to take long 
rides to the suburbs, but always in company 
with other lady friends. Just why lone would 
never go her mother could not understand, but 
supposed she was helping other mother’s prepare 
the necessary articles for boys not yet de- 
parted. 


*54 


IONfc. 


But each day no sooner was she gone than 
lone hastened down town to the head depart- 
ment of the Red Cross society, for she was now 
an honored member of that organization, and 
there, during her mother’s absence was earnest- 
ly employed in the severe drilling necessary. 

Her father had now been gone two weeks, and 
his daily letters assured them of his comfortable 
quarters, except climatic drawbacks, and of the 
perfect health of his regiment. Another two 
weeks passed, and he began to report light sick- 
ness, and the heat almost unbearable. Two 
more weeks and his men were prostrated on 
every side. 

On the drill ground they fell, to later develop 
malaria, or typhoid fever. No sooner had this 
news come, than lone informed her mother of 
her past preparation and intentions. 

“I shall start in three days for Tampa, 
mother, and I think you had better close the 
house and spend the interim of our absence 
with dear, kind aunt Amelia.” 

“ Surely my child you will not leave me alone, 
and unnecessarily expose yourself to the dangers 
attendant upon such a ?” 

“ No mother ” lone interrupted “ I will not 
leave you alone without loving hands and hearts 
to serve you, but only by yielding to my 


TONE. 


*55 


wishes will you make my services to my father 
and my country possible. With the thorough 
training of the past six months, and protection 
from the out-door tropical heat, I will not be 
very liable to disease, but father will be daily 
and hourly exposed, and oh, my dear mother, 
who will nurse him better than his own child ? 
If she is so blessed as never to succumb, she will 
find a large field of usefulness in serving 
others.” 

“ I think I have given enough, lone. I do 
not feel called upon to give the last of my loved 
ones to my country. “ 

“ But, mother, probably in sending me you 
save father. If he should die alone in a distant 
field we would never forgive ourselves.” 

After continued argument of like nature lone 
succeeded in gaining her mother’s consent, and 
a few days following, an out-going train bore 
her mother and herself southward. 

lone knew her father would not let her remain 
if he knew of her presence so her mother wrote 
him that they had both come to Virginia, but 
did not tell him that lone had gone on and was 
now safely and as pleasantly as possible, under 
the disabilities of army life, situated in sight of 
his own headquarters. Often in nursing the 
sick, she had to turn her head to prevent her 


IONE. 


X 5 6 

father’s recognition, as the officers made their 
daily rounds of inquiry among sick-wards whose 
inmates were daily increased until the services 
of hundreds of Red Cross nurses — whose aid 
the government assured the people in the begin- 
ning of the war, could be dispensed with — was 
needed. Readily and gladly they answered the 
call and the hospitals were filled with white caps 
and aprons. Thousands of our poor boys died 
for lack of such services, but be it to the glory 
of the God-sent organization, many thousand 
more today owe their lives to their loving, skill- 
ful hands. 

The greater pity is that such hands as Clara 
Barton’s had not steered that department of 
“ The Ship of State,” instead of its being ruled 
by intriguing politicians, for then, at least, the 
men that so readily answered their country’s 
call would have been better provided for in 
surgical and hospital service, transportation, 
and a thousand other necessary things left 
undone. 

But to the Nation it was victory, matters not 
how won; to the mother that gave her son to be 
sacrificed in a filthy army camp, — whose leading 
officers viewed their own glory and their salaries 
more than their country’s good, — to her it 
was ignominious defeat, unnecessary murder 
by slow tortuous methods, of her loved one. 


IONE. 


I 57 


“If drunk with sight of power we loose 
Wild tongues that have not thee in awe — 
Such boasting as the Gentiles use 
Or lesser breeds without the Law — 

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, 

Lest we forget — lest we forget ? 



CHAPTER XVII. 


R. GREY spent the early months in 
the city of New York but on the first 
of February, joined his ship in the 
Pacific waters. Although the sailors 
knew the general sentiment of the nation re- 
garding Spain’s cruelty to her subjects in Cuba, 
they, as man-o’-war’s-men, did not enter com- 
paratively into the spirit until the news of the 
destruction of the Maine reached them. 

Then every one aboard the Oregon, from 
Captain Clark down to the youngest ward-room 
boy, was possessed of a retaliative spirit ren- 
dered Herculean in its indulgence. But still no 
chance was given them. The people clamored 
for Avar, Congress demanded recognition and 
submission to the voice of an outraged people, 
and still our noble, Christian president procrast- 
inated, until he could no longer hold in check 
the American spirit, and was forced to submit. 

The size and strength of the Spanish navy 
was much magnified and as a precautionary 

158 



IONE. 


*59 


measure, the Oregon, on the 19th of March, 
left San Francisco to sail thirteen thousand 
miles, around Cape Horn, to add her seemingly 
great but untried strength to the Atlantic 
fleet. 

She started under extremely threatening, but 
still peaceful surroundings. No word of warning 
was given her. She was a man-of-war, with as 
valiant crew as ever manned a vessel, and 
though the nation listened with bated breath 
for any news of her whereabouts, all believed 
her competent to take care of herself. 

Dr. Grey did not enter into the retaliative 
spirit of the “tar” but he saw in the near future 
the inevitability of a righteous calling to arms of 
the American people for the suppression of ty- 
ranny and cruelty in Cuba. 

They had covered nearly half their journey 
before President McKinley signed the proclam- 
ation of war. No word could reach the Oregon 
nor did Captain Clark loiter by the way seeking 
news, but obeyed orders only stopping for coal. 
The enemy knew her course and knew of a right 
to attack her, but in brave ignorance, the vessel 
was put to the extreme limit of her speed, 
taxing both the ship’s and sailor’s endur- 
ance. 

Every part of her wonderful, massive equip- 


i6o 


IONE. 


ments in perfect order ; on all sides a sharp, 
lookout, so that no enemy could have surprised 
them; with every man, from the captain to the 
fireman at his post of duty ; the gunners ready 
to fire at a moment’s notice, a volley, that soon 
had the opportunity of telling of their ability. 

In his gentle, unassuming way, Dr. Grey 
nursed the over-taxed. His own health was en- 
tirely recovered, and with tireless devotion he 
aided all. At night, as each man slept beside 
his post of duty, often he was wont to prome- 
nade until a late hour among the sleeping forms 
of brave, blue-coated, brawny giants. Were his 
thoughts always of them, or did they, oftener 
than he would care to admit, revert to his child- 
hood home? 

Was it the beautiful mausoleum or the warm 
flesh and blood of the statue-like girl whom he 
knew worshiped him, that his thoughts dwelt 
most and longest upon ? To-night, as he uncon- 
sciously reached out his arms as if to encircle 
something ; was it the vanishing, heart-broken 
creature of “ Solitude,” or was it his sister’s 
“ wilful ward ? ” 

“ Certainly,” he assured himself, “ it was his 
dead love.” To entertain a sentiment of like 
character for any other woman, would be pro- 
fanation ; but despite all his self-assurance of 


IONE. 


161 


constancy to a hopeless love, thoughts of Salome 
crowded them out, and again as he felt, in im- 
agination, her soft arms around his neck and her 
warm lips pressed to his, an ecstasy took posses- 
sion of him that vibrated his whole being and 
left, after the vibrations ceased, a greater 
emptiness and loneliness. He could think of 
her no longer as his inferior. She had risen to 
a height that admitted of no doubts regarding 
her ability under favorable circumstances, but 
he now supposed it would be years before they 
would meet again, if ever. 

Probably war would be declared and there 
would be a watery grave for vessel and crew be- 
fore another year passed. To-night, as he in- 
voked divine guidance for Salome, he prayed 
God’s protection for ship and crew, and fervent- 
ly asked Him to spare his own humble self, why 
he knew not, for a year ago he simply placed 
himself in His hands, caring not how soon the 
summons came. 

Now to do God’s will was his only motive, 
but desire to have his days lengthened indefin- 
itely was added to his petition. The swaggering 
boast of victory by the over-confident sailor, 
did not affect him. 

“For heathen heart that puts her trust 
In reeking tube and iron shard — 


162 


IONE. 


All valiant dust that builds on dust, 

And guarding calls on thee to guard , — 

From frantic boast and foolish word, 

Thy Mercy on Thy people, Lord, Amen. ” 

“ Twelve o’clock ! still he felt no inclination 
to retire. The bright stars of a tropical clime 
beamed overhead. The great vessel heaved 
and groaned as she surged through the tranquil 
waters ; so calm that its face reflected the my- 
riad stars, making gems of beauty overhead and 
on the bosom of the placid waters. What was it 
that was unusually disturbing Dr. Grey tonight ? 
His feelings had not come of any fanciful med- 
itation upon the past, but an unseen controlling 
power was rendering him helpless to overcome 
the agitation. 

Was it “dear Jane,” his sainted sister who 
was directing his thoughts in a channel new to 
him ? Probably she had left the courts of 
heaven and with tranquil wings lightly poised 
above his head or near his side, her very pres- 
ence and wishes directing his thoughts to fulfill 
and consumate the earnest desires and earthly 
plans for him. 

If there is a “sweet beyond” where we shall 
know each other ; where we shall sometimes in 
the “ some-where ” be with our loved ones again, 
the over-ruling Spirit that created it and us, will 


IONE. 


163 


surely, out of His love and mercy to His helpless 
subjects, permit their intervention and influence 
in our behalf, and cause the invisible hand to 
ward off danger, direct our course by weilding 
an influence over us, the origin and cause of 
which will be non-comprehendible by us, except 
we keep ourselves in such close communion with 
the Creator that we know whereof the guidance 
comes. 

Surely an indulgent Heavenly parent could 
not refuse an earthly one the privilege of return- 
ing and hovering near the widow, and orphaned 
little ones as they weepingly assemble around 
the casket that contains all earthly left them 
of the loved father and mother. 

If the poor, deluded young man could but 
pierce the invisible air of the polluted bar-room, 
he would see the care-worn, hard hands — now 
changed to spiritual beauty and loveliness — 
beckoning him to desist ; or if possible, she has 
wearied of this and is learning over the battle- 
ments of heaven viewing with sorrow if it can 
enter that abode, the wayward course of her 
once chubby beautiful boy, or if a daughter, she 
would like to impress upon her that all sins are 
alike in God’s eyes, and if she only repent, in 
heaven at last, she will find recognition. 


164 


IONE. 


‘ ‘ Deep in the starry silence of the night 

Breathes low the mystery of Life and Death, 

While o’er the darkened waters underneath 
A voiceless spirit, veiled from mortal sight. 

Upheld, enfolded in the encircling height 

Of heaven, the hushed Earth softly draws her breath, 
And in the holy stillness listeneth 
To sweeping wings of far-off worlds in flight. 

Beauty ascends in elemental prayer j 

Lifted in worship, lost in wonderment, 

I join in Nature’s bright antiphony 
That vibrates in the calm and sentient air, 

And through the veil of darkness am content 
To touch the garment of Eternity.” 

The midnight hour waned into morning and 
still Dr. Grey paced the deck, between the spirit 
of indulgence and self-chastisement his soul was 
wrought to its highest pitch, but the last and 
most determined thought was always, that he 
was and would ever be true to his “ dead love.” 

“ Could she come back who has been dead so long, 

How could I tell her 

To what wild discords has my life been set 
Striving .... to forget 
How can she know in the abode of bliss 
The utter loneliness of life in this, 

The weariness that comes of nights unslept, 

The hopeless agony of tears unwept ? 

Could she come back, between would lie those years 
And I could only look at her through tears.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


ANUARY of 1898 found the school 
buildings sufficiently advanced to 
warrant the opening of the school, for 
all summer Salome and Muriel had 
been busy with correspondents in regard to 
needy, deserving pupils. They were compelled, 
in order to protect themselves from the unscru- 
pulous, to have just so much “ red tape,” and 
the business of writing was tremendous ; but on 
the fifteenth of January they had the profound 
pleasure of seeing the able, well chosen Pres- 
ident enroll fifty pupils, a good beginning con- 
sidering the unfinished state of buildings and 
of affairs generally. 

Boys of all ages from twelve to eighteen, truly 
a motly unkempt mass when they first arrived, 
but with clean cut hair, fresh baths, and neat 
uuiforms they presented a different appearance 
on opening day. To their teachers were pre- 
sented not only the arduous task of inculcating 
knowledge into their heads, but the more 



TONE. 


166 

intricate one of bringing them out of themselves. 
Scarcely any two were from like surroundings 
except as it consisted in poverty and misery. 
With patience and skill, seasoned with true love 
and charity, an inroad was soon made into each 
one’s confidence, and effective steps taken to 
better each individually. Of course, in that 
number of more fortunately situated indi- 
viduals — especialy school boys — we could 
hardly hope to find none a failure, and while 
some disappointments were met in this number, 
they were only exceptions and not the rule. 

Every day brought new arrivals until at the 
end of the month, the number was nearly 
doubled. 

Now every thing was safely on its way to 
completion and indeed it was fortunate, for the 
country was too excited over the Cuban question 
to give any other much thought. Here, as in 
New York and every other state, excitement 
was at its highest pitch. 

Intense solicitude for Dr. Grey, — now Salome 
knew he had joined his ship — was telling on 
her nerves and finally, on the fifteenth of Febru- 
ary, when the Nation heard with awful surprise, 
tempered with revenge, of the destruction of the 
battle-ship Maine, her solicitude waxed into 
fearful anxiety. A little over one month 


IONE. 


167 


more, — during which time the people had clam- 
ored for war — Salome learned with terror 
that the Oregon had sailed from San Francisco, 
under sealed orders. 

Two weeks elapsed before any news of the 
ship’s whereabouts reached the United States, 
finally the press gave the information that she 
had coaled at Callao, Peru, April fourth. To 
this port she | had made a continuous run, 
some four thousand five hundred miles with- 
out a stop, a feat never before equaled by war- 
ship. Prayers were offered for her safety, all 
hoped for it but grave fears that the enemy 
might intercept and destroy her, alternated with 
every hope. 

Salome suffered in a superlative degree with 
all who had friends or kindred aboard, for an 
intense nature like hers admits of no medium 
but drains the cup of joy or sorrow to the dregs. 
When it became a certainty that the Oregon 
was endeavoring to join the Atlantic fleet, the 
situation seemed more perilous. Suspense with 
Salome had now taken definite form ; the 
school was placed in the hands of teachers and 
committee ; the orphanage in a like manner, and 
she, with a nurses’ outfit took Muriel and 
departed for Chickamauga, under the special 
care of a much loved General from their own 


state. 


IONE 


1 68 

Here they entered upon, as best they could, the 
duties assigned them, each working at thesimpler 
ones ufader trained female hands. Salome’s 
experience and ruling ability aided her in con- 
trolling and managing her patients, but Muriel’s 
power lay in her sweet, gentle manners and earn- 
est interest in their condition. 

Each one’s ability was soon understood and 
appreciated. Salome was given convalescents 
to manage, and Muriel the very lowest, weakest 
patients, whom she gently*soothed by softly chaf- 
ing their temples or administering some delicacy 
made by her own little hands. 

They worked night and day during the 
month of April. Often, men were brought into 
the sick-wards from New York regiments, that 
Muriel recognized as former business men. Her 
changed appearance, however, owing to dress, 
cap, apron and manners, prevented them, in 
their weakness or more often delirious condition, 
recognizing her. 

There beneath historic old “ Lookout Mount- 
ain,” — where the third of a century ago, the 
“ battle above the clouds ” was fought — which 
could, by day, be seen towering above Chatanoo- 
ga, with sometimes a veil of vapor screening 
from admiring gaze its majestic beauty, or, at 
night its flashing electric lights, revealing, now 


IONE. 


169 


its peaceful hostleries for man, but in those days 
of bitter strife, the place of bombarding, destruc 
tive guns of modern warfare. There, in the 
sixties, confederate officers of high and low rank 
fell fighting for their loved South, to be replaced 
by mere lads stepping from the ranks to lead to 
victory his company or brigade in that memora- 
ble massacre. Now, northern and southern girls 
worked side by side in the same ward, each just 
as eager to save the lad, from the snow-capped 
mountains of Maine, as the boy from tropical 
Florida. 

To-night the military bands from the north 
and that of the south played the national airs at 
the Park or Inn, while beauty and chivalry 
kept step to the music. 

Daily the number of troops was increased and 
more than proportionately the number of sick. 
For several days Salome had displayed a feverish 
excitment over one of her patients — known only 
to the head nurse — but Muriel calmly, patiently, 
devoted every moment to her own, except during 
the few hours they had given to her for slumber, 
which she would begin by clasping Salome’s neck 
and sobbing herself to sleep. 

Salome recogized Mr. Granville before he was 
lifted from the stretcher, all wet with perspira- 
tion and besmeared with dust, having fallen 


170 


IONE. 


from weakness while at drill near the “ Bloody 
Pond,” — so named because the wounded of 
both the Blue and the Gray, after one of the 
most terrible conflicts during the civil war, 
crawled to its edges for water until they were so 
numerous that they lay in heaps with their life’s 
blood dying red its crystal waters — from which 
he only recovered to go into the ravings of deli- 
rious fever. Although his features were bloated 
and distorted by rum, the same lovely hair ad- 
orned his well-shaped, well-poised head and his 
fine physique was not yet rendered repulsive as 
his facial features were. 

“ A bad case,” said the surgeon, on examina- 
tion “ his blood is weakened and poisoned by 
intoxicants, which will greatly hinder his recov- 
ery under more favorable circumstances, and 
I find in him the worst indications.” 

After he was made as comfortable as a bath, 
and the illy provided surroundings permitted, 
Salome entered the ward and exerted herself to 
the utmost to, in a measure, relieve his delirium 
and quiet him. 

She beseeched the physician to do his utmost; 
prevailed upon the head nurse to help her, and 
with unflagging, untiring devotion, watched be- 
side his bed-side, not giving herself but half the 
alloted hours for sleep. 


IONE. 


I 7 I 

He had trespassed upon nature to such a de- 
gree that the actual requirements of army life, 
quadrupled by the tyranny and meanness of 
officers, was too great for his physical endurance. 
For ten days he raved, living over in his delirium 
his past life. Sometimes he would talk to his 
mother as he used at the age of ten, again he 
was having a fierce combat of words with 
school-mates, and then, in the twinkling of an 
eye, he would fancy he was again in Europe with 
Salome and he would, fora minute, beg her to lis- 
ten to his pleadings ; then he fancied he was with 
Muriel at Dr. Grey’s home in the south, and his 
words of constancy disgusted Salome. Suddenly 
his manner would alter when, for a moment, he 
apparently realized himself a fond husband ; 
then with jealousy he would forbid Muriel his 
presence, offering taunts and accusations that 
made Salome wish to annihilate him. When her 
flight would occur to him, he would make the 
sick-ward blue with execrations and words of re- 
venge on Dr. Grey. 

But with forbearance and patience, Salome 
did all she could to aid his recovery, and on 
expressing her hope to the surgeon, he said : 

“ That you will never see for he is now be- 
yond recovery.” True to his prophecy, her 
patient soon went into a protracted stupor from 


1 72 


IONE. 


which he awakened sane, fully realizing his 
nearness to eternity. 

As he opened his eyes and recognized Salome, 
a pitiful expression came over his features. With 
vividness, his sins rushed before him, and he 
looked like a hunted lion, expecting her at least, 
to retaliate by venting her feelings on his 
head. 

Lightly approaching nearer, she said : “ How 
do you feel, Mr. Granville ? You have been 
sick for some time, and unconscious through it 
all. But now we hope you will soon be on the 
road to recovery.” 

With eyes already glazed and with voice al- 
most too feeble to be understood, he replied : 
“ It will be hope against despair, I feel too dis- 
tinctly my nearness to the end.” 

“ Probably that comes of your weakness, Mr. 
Granville, you must not give up, take your med- 
icine now, and then have some of this nice 
beef-tea I prepared myself for you.” 

He willingly followed her directions, gazing 
in his old wonted way at her face, as she tender- 
ly fed him the nourishment. 

“ Salome,” he said, “I have not much longer in 
this life, and then I must meet my just deserts, 
but I want to say to you — to you, the only 
woman I ever loved — I am not wholly bad. 


10NE. 


1 7 3 


Not through so much my own will, as through cir- 
cumstances, has my ruin been wrought, and right 
here let me give you a word of warning. The 
climax to all my folly was a loveless marriage. 
Poor little Muriel ! I believe she sincerely 
loved me until I succeeded in turning that love 
to disgust ; but to secure safety to any man, he 
must also love and respect his wife. Her fond- 
ness alone will not suffice. Added to this was 
my maddening, inherited love for drink, that 
brutalized every nobler sentiment.” 

“ Surely the iniquities of several generations 
have been heaped upon me until I have tres- 
passed beyond pardon. If I had only stopped; 
somehow I could not, but seemed borne with the 
current to the bottomless sea.” 

“ Not yet to a bottomless sea my friend,” 
Salome answered, “ neither have you trespassed 
beyond pardon. Thousands of redeemed souls 
entered deeper into the mire of sin than God 
has, as yet, mercifully given you time to. You 
have the first desired quality of repentance — 
a recognition of your sins — and I beg of you to 
create the second quality. True sorrow for, and 
a determination to abandon them.” 

“ I will be given no more opportunities to re- 
peat them, Salome, but it is like cowardice to 
ask God to accept the few moments of a worse 
than worthless life.” 


i74 


IONE. 


“ We are not saved by our works but by 
faith.” While I believe there will be degrees of 
reward in heaven for our services here, they in 
no wise affect us an admission through the 
“ pearly gates,” but we must come alone, through 
the atoning blood of Christ, that was shed, not 
for the whole, but the maimed ; not for the well, 
but for the sick. Surely you feel the need of 
this great physician, will you ask his pardon and 
accept his salvation ? ” 

He turned his face to the wall and she dare 
not disturb him, but her lips moved in mute 
prayer, beseeching the Throne of Grace to save 
his wretched soul. For some time he lay thus, 
then turned his eyes to hers, and said : 

“ Tell Muriel, as she hopes for God’s pardon, 
to forgive me. I have not asked you where she 
is, for it would be profanation for me — her 
ruin — to presume to speak of her whereabouts. 
I am calmer now Salome, my own inward cries 
for mercy have been strengthened by your ear. 
nest petitions in my behalf ; I pray you continue 
them. 

“ Have me buried here, Salome, for I have no 
living relatives. In this noble cause, as well as 
in all other things I have failed for if I could 
only have bravely died for my country, I would 
have somewhat repaired the blur upon my an- 


IONE. 


1 75 


cestors’s name — but perhaps I was not worthy 
of even that. Tell Muriel I died thoroughly re- 
pentant, stabbed with the knowledge that that 
repentance cannot undo the injustice done her.” 

“ Your wishes shall be carried out, my friend” 
answered Salome, “ but do not feel for a moment 
your life has not been as nobly and truly sacri- 
ficed for your country v as the bravest soldiers 
upon the bloody battleground ; his is service 
with honor, while yours is the noblest of service, 
that without honor.” 

His last words were almost inaudible, and 
Salome bent her beautiful head to catch every 
intonation. As the last sound escaped him a 
sharp spasm of pain crossed his features, and he 
soon relapsed into unconsciousness, from which 
he never rallied, but quietly passed out, to be 
entered upon a new “ roll call ” in the unpierced, 
untried future. 

“ So live that when thy summons comes to join 
The innumerable caravan that moves 
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take 
His chamber in the silent halls of death, 

Thou go not like the quarry-slave at night 
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed 
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave 
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
Aboujt him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.” 


176 


IONE. 


For days Salome had pondered in her mind 
how to break the news to Muriel, and each day 
the subject grew a more difficulty one. She 
did not think it best for Muriel to know of 
his proximity, or to have the unbearable burden 
of meeting him, for she knew she had already 
freely forgiven him — although forgiveness does 
not mean the taking of the foe to our heart and 
confidence again — but she knew that now she 
must apprise her of what had happened, so in 
an unusually agitated manner, she entered her 
room and sat down on the little cot beside 
Muriel, — who had preceeded her to their 
nightly quarters — laid her arm around her and 
tenderly kissed her cheeks. 

“ What is it to-night, Salome ? ’’queried Muriel 
you seem unusualy agitated.” 

“Yes,” Salome answered, “ one of my patients 
died an hour ago. Painful in the extreme was 
his demise, although I have hopes his soul is at 
rest. He left many messages with me for his 
much injured wife from whom he has been 
divorced.” 

Muriel sprang to her feet and exclaimed: 
“ Salome was it Mr. Granville ? Oh, why did 
you not tell me ! ” 

“I did not feel that you ought to know,” 
replied Salome. For a moment Muriel looked 
paralized, then she said : 


IONE. 


*77 


“ Oh, if I only could have asked his forgive- 
ness for marrying him ! I feel as if that is the 
only sin I have ever commttted.” 

“I am sure he fully forgave you Muriel.” 
Salome then repeated to her every message he 
sent. 

“ Did he know I was here ? ” 

“ No he did not know where you were, and 
I knew it was best not to tell him, for Muriel 
your presence would only have added a thous- 
and pangs to his already tortuous death.” 

Finally, the expected — to Salome — summons 
came and she prevailed upon Muriel to view his 
remains, With blanched face she complied, 
leaning upon Salome’s arm like one in a trance. 
But when she entered in the presence of the 
dead, she beheld him looking like the Granville 
of old, all bloat and discoloration gone from his 
now calm and placid features, which were 
rendered almost perfect in death’s repose. 
Muriel’s heart melted aud she cried out for her 
lost love. Oh, cruel fate ! Truly thy workings 
are a mystery to man. 

For a little while Salome let Muriel give vent 
to her grief, then lifted her from her knees and 
supported her to her room. She did not chide 
her for wailing, knowing that spent grief was 
better than that pent up in our hearts to knarw 


178 


IONE. 


the very vitals of life away. She would not let 
her sit up or pace the room as she desired, but 
assisted her to disrobe and compelled her to 
retire. Salome was kept busy refuting the 
bitter denunciations Muriel brought against 
herself, assuring her that she was utterly power- 
less to have made it otherwise. 

“ Not your past life, Muriel, can you now 
remedy, but let it serve to shape the future of 
both your own and others you can directly or 
indirectly influence. Probably God has chosen 
you to lay yourself upon the altar for the 
betterment of those alike situated. The martyrs 
were not all in Christ’s time, or the few cent- 
uries following, for to-day we have both men 
and women who are martyred in spirit ; crucified 
afresh each day for a principle or right. 

Much easier would it be to be annihilated, 
basking in God’s sunshine around his beautiful 
throne than to daily and hourly face the 
disapproval of the masses, because, with pro- 
phetic eyes, they have left the old trodden 
pathway and pointed to a more just one. Your 
love for him was pure and holy, and none but 
he could irradicate it, but only you took the 
marriage vows ; his was a false oath that 
rendered more hideous, in God’s sight, the 
union of your lives. Do you call that marriage, 


IONE. 


I 79 


or only a little more respectability lent to 
adultery ? Some mighty torrent of sentiment, 
behind fearless law makers, press and pulpit, 
must e’re Christ’s coming, effect a change. 

Will you submissively be an humble instru- 
ment in your Heavenly Father’s hands to do 
the little in your power, toward hastening His 
coming ? You could never have atoned for the 
error by continuing a living lie. 

“ I that rather held it better men should perish one by one 

Than that earth should stand at gaze like Joshua’s noon in 
Ajalon ? 

Not in vain the distant beacons. Forward, forward let us range. 
Let the great world spin forever down the ringing groves of 
change. 

Through the shadow of the globe we sweep into tho younger 
day ! 

Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay. 

Mother age (for mine I knew not) help me as when life began ; 
Rift the hills, and roll the waters, flash the lightnings, weigh 
the sun. 

Oh, I see the crescent promise ! . . . 

* * * 

“And his spirit leaps within him to be gone before him then 
Underneath the light he looks, at in among the throngs of men 
Men my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something 
new $ 

That which they have done but earnest of the things that they 
shall do." 


l8o IONE. 

For hours, Salome talked thus to Muriel until 
at near daybreak, they sank into a restless 
sleep, soon to be awakened by the morning 
bugle-calls and the tramp, tramp of the thousand 
men and horses, roused this early to go through 
another day of monotonous drill and camp rou- 
tine. 

Salome arose, but as she expected, found Mu- 
riel unable to do so. At six o’clock the reveille 
was sounded and shortly after, the dead of 
the day before was borne from the camp- 
hospital to be consigned to awaiting loved ones, 
or those like Mr. Granville, who did not have 
such a one, to be hastily intered near by. Ah, 
the cruelties of war ! How long, O, Lord ! How 
long before Thy coming, when universal peace 
shall reign ? 

For some time, Cuba had been blockaded. 
Commodore Sampson had bombarded the forts 
of San Juan, rendering them comparatively inef- 
fective. Commodore Schley, of the Flying 
Squadron who had joined that commanded by 
Sampson, soon located Cervera’s mystical fleet of 
Spanish warships snugly sheltered in Santiago 
harbor, but there to be entrapped by Hobson, 
whose daring feat has added new glory to the 
United States Navy, and anew name to the ros. 
ter of dashing, daring heroes like Summers and 


IONE. 


181 


Cushing. The enemy apparently making no 
move, and daring nothing, were reducing our 
combined powerful fleets to complete impotency, 
consequently a land force was called for, to at- 
tact from the inland, thus forcing the Spaniards 
to surrender or fight. 

Hobson was not one of a thousand, but 
among a thousand. From Brewer, the brave, 
untiring Postmaster of Santiago, to the lowest 
private that worked or died at his post of duty, 
— on board ship, on the drill ground, of fever 
at our various camps or beside his gun at El 
Cany — the same patriotic spirit inspired them 
all. Sacrifice without honor was the lot of a 
greater number of America’s volunteers who 
gave up their lives for the cause of humanity. 

Salome knew that Muriel’s usefulness was 
ended at Chicamauga, — there in sight of the 
high hill upon which Granville was intered, the 
rude grave within a half hour’s walk of her 
apartments, where she was oftener found, gazing 
in that direction, than with her patients — and 
having a reason of her own she asked to be 
transferred to Tampa from which point she de- 
termined to go with the first troops, to the field 
of battle. 


CHAPTER XIX. 



F people of all walks in life were taught 
the rigid discipline administered to 
naval cadets and sailors, there would 
be more successes and far fewer fail- 
ures, for only “he who has learned to obey will 
know how to command.” 

Without questioning, every man aboard the 
Oregon continued unswervingly at his post of 
duty. Her continuous run from San Francisco 
to Calloa made in two weeks, was unpreceden- 
ted. Two more days and she entered the Straits 
of Magellan, taking this much out of the way 
course to avoid a possible enemy in force. Her 
commander did not know but that war had al- 
ready been declared, and that destruction might 
await his noble ship and crew. The Gunboat 
Marietta had joined the Oregon and together 
they passed through stiffling calms and summer’s 
heat, and then north again into the blazing 
rainless waste of tropical seas. At home a 
nation listened with bated breath for any news 


IONE. 


I$3 

of her. All feared she was coming blindfold in- 
to a whole fleet of Spain’s war-ships, but mingled 
with the fears were hopes, taking the very form 
an invocation for the ship’s safety. 

Civil and naval circles were alike alarmed, 
and not until she reached Rio Janeiro, did the 
United States government succeed in cabling 
Captain Clark the warning, that four heavily 
armored cruisers and three torpedo boats were 
attempting to intercept her. Immediately she 
was put to sea, finding on this salt waste an 
unfrequented track. At Bahia, she stole into 
harbor under cover of night, to have the warn- 
ing again emphasized ; and naval circles, know- 
ing secrecy to be her only protection, refused 
to give any further news of her course, but this 
did not hinder the anxious from making no 
news, bad news. 

One day the press would surmise her safety, 
the next predict it would be impossible for Cap- 
tain Clark to evade the enemy, but on the 
twenty-fifth of May, the Oregon reached the 
harbor of Key West. Captain Clark and his 
complement of four hundred and twenty-four 
men had broken the records of naval voyages. 
Dr. Grey, as all others aboard, and the grand 
old ship itself stood well the test. In Bahia, 
realizing the danger, he looked out longingly up- 


184 


IONE. 


on the inky blackness of night, toward his native 
land, and thought with great sorrow of her 
broken homes and aching hearts, and for the 
first time since her death, thanked God his sis- 
ter was spared this anxious sorrow. 

The Oregon did not anchor for repairs but 
reported for duty and was at once ordered to 
join the blockading squadron at Santiago, after 
coaling and taking on much needed fresh pro- 
visions and supplies. 

“ Summon thy ships together, gather a mighty fleet 

For a strong young nation is arming that never hath known de- 
feat. 

Summon thy ships together, there on thy blood-stained sands ! 

For a shaking army gathers, with manacled feet and hands, 

A shadowy host of sorrows and of shames, too black to tell ! 

That reach with their horrible wounds for thee, to drag thee 
down to hell ! 

Myriad phantoms and spectres, thou warest against in vain ! 

Thou art weighed in the scales and found wanting, the balance 
of God, O Spain ! >f 

Are injustices all out-side our nation ? Our 
government reaches with one sympathetic hand 
to save these natives of Cuba, and with the 
other deals out to American youth, — in whose 
veins flows some of the purest blood of the uni- 
verse, — the moral, physical, and soul destroying 
intoxicating cup. An army, reeling in the throes 
of drunkeness, — going to save the heathen ! 


IONE. 


185 

‘‘ Behold ! I have stood on the mountains, and this was writ in 
the sky : 

‘ She is weighed in the scales and found wanting, the balance God 
holds on high ! ’ 

The balance he once weighed Babylon, the mother of Harlots, 
in — ” 


We laugh at drunkenness now-a-days as the 
Elizabethens laughed at insanity, and some of 
the most talked of — not much read — writers 
use it as a trump-card. God has proven in all 
ages that He always represents the moral sides 
of all issues. Stanton wrote years ago : “ Much 
has recently been said of military combinations 
and organizing victory. I hear such phrases 
with apprehension. They began in infidel France 
during the Italian campaign and resulted in 
Waterloo. Who can organize victory ? Who 
can combine the elements of success on the bat- 
tle-field ? We owe our victories to the spirit of 
the Lord. 

“Are the vineyards responsible for French de- 
cadence ? Is the cultivation of the vine respon- 
sible for the mental attitude of the French, and 
for the tendencies to vulgarity which prevails in 
their literature ? If their wines produce this 
havoc in a nation, what, in the course of time, 
will ow ten-fold stronger drinks produce ? Can 
we not see the “ hand-writing on the wall ? ” 


IONF- 


186 


* * * * 

Eugene Morris stood well the trying work 
at San Antonio. His face bronzed, hands 
hardened, and whole body toughened propor- 
tionately. The arduous task of the officers in 
training this motly make up, was greatly as- 
sisted by such men — trained in military tac- 
tics — as Eugene Morris. His respect for — 
not superiors, — but officers, — men often below 
him in mental calibre, greatly assisted them to 
secure the ignorant, boasting class that impre- 
gnates all armies and in a superlative degree 
this one. But with a super-human effort on the 
part of some with merely passiveness on the part 
of others, order was soon brought out of chaos 
and on Sunday, May twenty-ninth, Generals 
Wood and Roosevelt were ordered to remove 
their command to Tampa, 

Not a century ago, like campaigns were made 
by both infantry and cavalry, marching weary 
and foot-sore across a continent with inconven- 
iences multiplied a thousand fold, but these 
troops, packed to suffocation, found in the four 
days journey the heat and surroundings almost 
unbearable. Finally, arriving at Tampa, the 
officers pressed their forces to the front and 
succeeded in getting a transport among the 
very first. 


10NE. 


i8 7 

Salome and Muriel had by this time arrived 
and were busy trying to help in a small meas- 
ure relieve the suffering hundreds that were 
smitten with terrible fevers. Through her in- 
fluence with their General who was from their 
own state and a friend of Dr. Grey’s, Salome 
soon gained permission to accompany the con- 
tingent to Santiago. 

Muriel recognized lone Chilton, but did not 
let herself be known. A few days after as 
lone was crossing from one hospital tent to 
another, she came face to face with Eugene 
Morris. 

“ Miss Chilton ! ” he exclaimed, in surprise. 
“ What are you doing here ? ” 

Her self possession came to her immediately 
and she replied, in a perfectly calm voice : 
“ Watching out for my father’s health and serv- 
ing my country by nursing as best I can.” 

“ Where is your father, Miss Chilton ? I am 
now hunting for his head-quarters.” 

Pointing away to the right, she said ; “You 
will find father over there Mr. Morris. I am 
here without his knowledge. Let me beseech 
you not to reveal by word or look my presence.” 

“ Do you think this is right, lone? ” 

“I do,” was the prompt reply, “the end 
justifies the means. Will you give me your 
promise ? ” 


IONE 


1 88 


“ Yes ” said Morris, “ but how long have you 
been here ! I think a few days will suffice to 
make you willing and glad to return home.” 

“ I have been here several weeks ” lone 
answered, “ and entertain no idea of returning> 
but instead, intend sailing with the troops to the 
scene of conflict if I can evade my father long 
enough to get aboard.” 

“ I think you are wrong lone, and had better 
give up your trip.” 

“ Have not I the same right to serve my 
country as your-self ? ” she asked. 

“ Oh, but it seems so hard for one raised as 
you have been, to endeavor to confront the 
terrible hardships attendant upon the life of a 
nurse. I fear you will weep your eyes out.” 

With fearless happy eyes she gazed into his 
and said : “ Mr. Morris, for the first time in my 
life I feel that I am of use. Would you rob me 
of this sweet satisfaction and cause me to return 
to a worse than useless life — a life freighted un- 
bearably with idleness and vanity ? I had a 
thousand times rather be a sacrifice upon the 
alter of patriotism to my country than to return 
to that detestable life.” 

Morris had never heard her speak in this 
strain before, consequently was dumbfounded at 
her assertions ; but in looking long and earnestly 


IONE* 


189 


at her changed features, which plainly revealed 
her new self, he was convinced of her earnest- 
ness, and so extended his hand and congratu- 
lated her upon these noble resolves, and prom- 
ised to in no wise make known to her father her 
presence. 

At last all hinderance was overcome and on the 
13th. of June the troops received the welcome 
news to embark. While grave fears were enter- 
tained of the result, still they preferred excite- 
ment, seasoned with danger to the inactive, mo- 
notonous life in a pestilential camp. Ship after 
ship weighed anchor and went slowly ahead for 
the distant mouth of the harbor, the band 
playing, the flags flying, the rigging black with 
the clustered soliders cheering and shouting to 
those left behind on the quay — who con- 
sidered themselves unfortunate in being left — ■ 
and to those on the other ships. They were all 
night in passing the tortuous channel, but the 
next afternoon the great fleet steamed out un- 
til Tampa’s light sank in the distance. 

The thirty odd transports moved in long par- 
allel lines, while ahead, behind and on either 
flank the gray hulls of the war-ships, surged 
through the blue waters, with every variety of 
craft to guard, from the mighty ocean-liner to 
the converted steam yachts and the frail veno- 
mous looking torpedo-boats. 


igo 


IONE. 


Men young and strong with unbounded patri- 
otism, cast a parting glance at the shore then 
turned quickly, and looking before them — 
seemingly to pierce the invisible future, which, 
thankfully at this and all times a gracious Hea- 
venly Father prevents us doing. 


No solemn host goes trailing by 

The black-mouthed gun and staggering wain ; 

Men start not at the battle-cry — 

O be it never heard again ! ” 


CHAPTER XX. 


N board the Red Cross ship during 
their passage, Muriel met and recog- 
nized lone, who told her of her 
fatherandMr. Morris’ presence which 
brought a rush of old memories that ended in a 
break-down from grief which lasted one whole 
day. Salome told lone of Mr. Granville’s death, 
and henceforward his name became sacred to 
them. Before effecting a landing, Mr. Morris 
secured a boat and came over to the hospital 
ship to look after lone, and was surprised to find 
on board, Mrs. Granville and her beautiful com- 
panion. lone recounted Mr. Granville’s death- 
bed scene, and from that on Mr. Morris regard- 
ed Mrs. Granville with a peculiar but dangerous 
pity — dangerous because it is of the kind that 
begets a tenderer sentiment. Several times 
during the long hours before landing he found 
time and occasion to visit them. The thunder- 
ous, deafening roar, of the cannon shelling the 
shores in order to make landing for the troops 



192 


IONE. 


safer, unnerved Muriel, but lone and Salome 
viewed it calmly and quietly. Soon the troop- 
ship that bore the Rough Riders began unload- 
ing, and lone stood on deck and watched them 
begin the march inland. 

Next came her father’s ship, and they like-wise 
landed and marched out of sight, and she 
thought with aching heart, that all she loved 
best were gone into dangers from which they 
would never return. 

The next day came reports of the skirmish, 
and when lone expressed her determination to 
go to the scene of conflict, Salome and Muriel 
made arrangements to accompany her. Part of 
the way they were hauled in wagons, part they 
trudged o’er places too rough to ride. 

With solemn awe they visited the temporary 
hospitals and lone looked into the faces of all 
the dead first, and then the wounded, thus mak- 
ing herself sure that niether her father or 
Morris were among the number. Finding their 
services were not needed and the surgeons fear- 
ing for their safety on the morrow, they retraced 
their foot-steps before the dawn of another 
day. 

It was not fatality that caused Eugene Morris 
at this early hour of his acquaintance with Mu- 
riel, to regard her with a tenderer sentiment than 


IONE. 


*93 


he was wont to regard her sex. It was only her 
loneliness and utter dependence that appealed 
to him. 

If lone had been brave enough to make known 
her love to him he could, and would have ad- 
mired her sufficiently to have pledged himself 
to her, but she could not find courage to leave 
the old time worn track and open her heart to 
him, consequently for a long fostered, mistaken 
idea of woman’s sphere, she must bear the bit- 
terest of consequences, for in a very few days 
she, with the jealous eyes with which she 
watched his every look and movement, when in 
his presence, soon imagined he was in love with 
Muriel, and with a broken heart, she performed 
every hour's duty ; no one realizing the terrible 
inward struggle she was having. 

The army advanced as best they could to take 
the city of Santiago, in the rear followed the re- 
lief corpses and Red Cross nurses. They were 
kept busy nursing the faint and fever stricken 
that fell by the wayside, and once, when a New 
York volunteer fell, and was hastened back to 
the hospital from her father’s command, and 
while he was in consultation with the head 
nurse, she had to turn her back for fear of rec- 
ognition. 

Only six hours rest was given them at night. 


x 94 


IONE. 


There, stretched on her blanket, pile of straw, or 
anything obtainable, was the tender society 
belle that had always been accustomed to the 
luxuries of life. Through night’s dampness and 
dews, day’s tropical sun and rain, unflinchingly, 
uncomplainingly, they bore all, and lone felt, 
for almost the first time in life, that she was of 
use to some one. 

Finally, on the night of June thirtieth, 
throughout all the camps went the whisper, 
“ there will be a battle to-morrow. ” By day- 
light, July first, all had had their breakfast, and 
before “ Old Sol ” sent his piercing, blistering 
rays pouring down on their heads, they were in 
line and marching on the enemy. 

The roar of the artilery and the crack, crack 
of musketry was appalling to the inexperienced. 
In three different directions the strife was 
getting fierce and hot and by eight o’clock it 
was general. As our forces advanced on the 
enemy, our ships began thundering at the forti- 
fications, when the Spanish fleet, snugly shel- 
tered in the harbor, trained their guns as best 
they could and poured forth volley after volley 
on our own brave Jack-Tars. 

It was now one blazing, belching volcano of 
fire and death ! Men were trembling here and 
there, dropping singly and in dozens, while the 


IONE. 


*95 


wounded were coming back in a stream of bleed- 
ing humanity. By eleven o’clock on that mem- 
orable morning, the conflict was at its height 
and all was a roaring, quaking volcano. 

At the front it grew hotter and hotter. Right 
up to the “ trochas ” rushed our determined 
soldiers and fought their way through, cutting 
wire and rushing at the enemy. Soon, San Juan 
Heights were taken, and El Caney followed in 
quick succession. 

lone had mounted a small hill in front of the 
field hospital, and with field glasses watched 
both her father’s and Eugene Morris’ regiments 
make the charge. Without consulting any one 
she slipped away through palmetto, cacti, and 
the numerous dense tropical growths that cover 
the country, and reached her father’s division 
first, recognizing him, away to the right of her 
path, commanding his men. She crept stealthily 
on, stopping often to take some wounded man’s 
canteen and bring water to quench his dying 
thirst. Once she assisted a poor regular to 
straighten his limb, that was shattered by a shell 
and had doubled underneath him in falling. 

Through it all she preserved a stoicism that 
would have pleased Teno himself. Her thoughts 
were not of these poor men, however, — so thick 
sometimes that she must leave her path-way — 


196 


IONE. 


but of the division of Rough Riders she saw in 
the vale and ascending San Juan Heights. 

Finally she reached the edge of the woods 
from which they had made the dash up hill, and 
began the search among the dead and dying. 
Could a mission be more frought with horror ? 
A lone woman, wild eyed, and heart-broken 
seeking for her loved one among hundreds of 
dead and dying. 

Heart-broken, because she felt he could never 
return the love she bore him ; felt that the 
heart she so much craved had already been 
given to another, but hers was sufficient for 
both. Hers was that devotion that loses sight 
of self for the benefit of the loved object a sac- 
rificing devotion that takes hold of the very 
“ horns of the altar.” 

The terrible heat and surroundings caused 
strong men to faint, but with a super-human 
strength, lone traversed and re-traversed the 
battle-ground, often running to a lifted form and 
scrutinizing the features before he was borne a- 
way. She seemed to have no thought that he 
was not among the wounded, she did not look 
among the unhurt as they came and went, but 
having a presentiment that he had fallen, she 
continued to look. Seeing three men raising 
a body, she went toward them and seemed dis- 


IONE. 


*97 


appointed when she found it was the one she 
sought. 

“ For whom are you looking,” one of them 
asked her. 

“ For Eugene Morris. Troop — of the Rough 
Riders.” 

“ Here ! ” Said a weak voice near her, and she 
turned only to behold him lying in tall grass, 
with a shattered lower limb. He started in 
surprise. 

“ lone,” he said, “ why did you come here ? 
You will be shot, you can do me no good!” 

Without answering him she turned to the 
three men who were about to bear the other 
man away, and said : “ Will not one of you 

come and help me carry my friend to the hos- 
pital tent ? ” 

Not so much her words as her look and voice 
caused them to exchange words. One of 
them came, and assisted by lone, placed Morris 
on a blanket and then, with seeming super-hu- 
man strength on her part, lifted and started 
slowly across the intervening space. 

The enemy had retreated over the hills, the 
cannonading in a measure had ceased, but the 
sharp-shooters continued picking off the men. 
lone could not go more than twenty paces with- 
out resting. She also knew that every step they 


198 


IONE. 


took was torture to Morris, and when they raised 
and lowered him at each rest he would nearly 
faint with pain. 

After a hundred yards or so had been cov- 
ered two volunteers came to her relief and bore 
him gently to the rear. As they neared the 
place where the hospital tent had been pitched, 
other men came bearing a wounded comrade on 
a stretcher. He was talking brightly to them 
of his wounds, which would not have proven 
fatal, when the bullet from some sharp-shooter’s 
Mauser tore through his brain. Two more 
hisses of passing bullets from the same source, 
one of which penetrated the foot of Eugene 
Morris. 

lone screamed and purposely ran round on 
the side from which the bullet come, then she 
placed her hand over his head as if to shield 
him. She was just in time, the next shot pas- 
sing through the lower portion of her own body, 
lodging against his belt plate directly over his 
heart. She fell unconscious across his form, and 
one of the soldiers raised her in his arms and 
bore her tenderly beyond the range of deadly 
missils. 

Morris wept like a child, giving vent to his 
feelings in words of regret that she came for 
him and that he was the cause of it. He dis- 


IONE. 


I 99 


patched a comrade for her father, but before he 
had arrived, Morris was unconscious, and sur- 
geons were operating on his limb and foot. 

Upon the arrival of Captain Chilton, he was 
told of Eugene’s wounds and of the young 
female nurse being shot while striving to aid 
him, whereupon he requested to be taken to 
her. Imagine his horror when, walking 
among the rows of wounded, he heard a sweet, 
plaintive though weak voice away to the right of 
the accumulated group of writhing humanity, 
call, “ Father !” 

Stopping short, he turned, and beholding her 
he made a quick rush to her side, and kneeling 
beside the prostrate form, cried : “ My God, 

lone ! Is this you ? What are you doing here ? 
How did you get here, and when did you 
come ? ” 

“ I came when you did, father,” answered 
lone. “ I knew it would have been against your 
wishes had you known ; but forgive me, I could 
not help it.” 

He bowed his head on her breast and wept 
for some time. She twined her arms around his 
neck, and although she was suffering much pain, 
spoke words of comfort to him, making light of 
her wound and assuring him of her speedy re- 
covery. But she felt this would never be. He 


200 


IONE 


secured permission to remain from his command 
and stay with her through the night, saw that 
her wound was well dressed, and rejoined 
his regiment at day-break as she was resting 
quietly. 

The inexorable mandates of cruel war forced 
the distracted father to his post of duty in order 
to hold their position or advance as the case 
might arise. All night long the wounded were 
being carried to the rear. No sooner were the 
wounds of one bandaged than others were de 
manding attention of the surgeons and nurses. 
They came by hundreds, some crawling, drag- 
ging mangled and bleeding limbs and praying 
in the name of God and mercy to be relieved. 
The uncomfortable army wagons rumbled over 
the unbroken ground, full of bleeding forms and 
every jolt brought fresh shrieks, and, sad to 
say, oaths. 

The following day’s skirmish was equally as 
successful in gaining strategic ground, and our 
loss of life was comparatively small, still, not 
knowing the strength of the enemy, there were 
rumors of a retreat, which Captain Chilton with 
many others dreaded most of all, for he well 
knew that the line of such retreat was such that 
they would be at the mercy of the enemy, who 
would spare neither sick or well, nurses or sol- 


TONE. 


201 


dier, male or female. But the God of all battles 
directed the best and bravest officers to advise 
the holding of their position and on Sunday 
morning the annihilation of the Spanish fleet by 
our own bravely manned and splendidly hand* 
led war-ships, was the turning point. 

It was a day of great rejoicing to our exhaus- 
ted soldiers in Cuba, as well as to the entire na- 
tion, but it was the saddest of Captain Chilton’s 
life. He had spent the night with lone and 
just at daybreak, with arms tightly clasped 
around his neck, she breathed her last. 

Her quiet and resigned talk to him during 
the night had somewhat reconciled him ; but 
with a feeling that the brightest and best of all 
was gone from his life, he stoicaly crossed her 
hands and left her with Salome and Muriel, who 
had, upon hearing of the misfortune, rushed to 
her side. When he returned to help bury her, 
and mark her grave, Salome handed him the fol- 
lowing note found on her person. 

To my dear father and mother : — 

“ If I should fall by the wayside let me lie at rest where I fall. 
Come sometimes and view the spot, but it is my wish not to be 
removed. Neither grieve, for I am happier in the discharge of 
this duty then I have ever been since reaching an age of responsi- 
bility. No less love to you, but more as I love humanity more. 

Your loving daughter, 


I ONE.” 


202 


IONE. 


She had died with her love a secret. Eugene 
Morris thought her life sacrificed because of 
humanity, little dreaming he was the moter- 
power that set vibrating all her nobler instincts. 

But he grieved aloud, clasping Captain Chil- 
ton’s hand, for words were inadequate to express 
his sorrow, feeling himself the indirect cause of 
her death. 

“ Do not grieve Morris,” said Captain Chilton, 
“ others have given only sons, I have given a 
purer sacrifice — an only daughter and child.” 

“ And all the shows o’ the world are frail and vain 
To weep a loss that turns their light to shade. 

It is a woe too deep for tears when all 
Is reft at once, when some surpassing spirit, 

Whose light adorned the world around it, leaves 
Those who remain behind nor sobs nor groans, 

The passionate tumult of a clinging hope ; 

But pale despair and cold tranquility. 

Natures cast frame, the web of human things, 

Birth and the grave, that are not as they were.” 


At nine o’clock fierce cannonading at sea be- 
gan. Salome knew there was a naval battle, 
and the horror and anxiety would have been 
unbearable but for that stoicism that takes pos- 
session alike of men and women. 

All day she worked aiding a dextrous surgeon 
dress wounds, — worked with livid face and 


IONE. 


203 


clinched teeth — the deep continuous roar of 
the great guns chilling her blood until her heart 
hung dormant in her bosom. Every pulsation 
was an intercession in behalf of Dr. Grey. 

Night came before she learned the results 
and then, with clasped hands, she knelt amid 
an ocean of tanned, motly mass of wounded 
men, and aloud, thanked God for the victory* 
Profane lips near her were sealed, giving place 
to glances of reverence. 

Many hearts were turned to holier things, for 
often did she hear in the succeeding days, from 
hardened men, from bearded youth, “ remember 
me in your prayers.” 


“ Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie 
Thy soul’s immensity ! 

Thou best philospher, who yet dost keep 
Thy heritage ! ” 



CHAPTER XXI. 

^TER the victorious naval battle and 
subsequent surrender of Santiago, 
owing to the alarming condition of 
the troops and the scarcity of surgic- 
al aid, Dr. Grey, with other surgeons, were daily 
detailed to land service thereby somewhat re- 
lieving the over-taxed medical force. 

Day and night he labored cleaning and dress- 
ing wounds, setting shattered limbs and 
amputating others. It was his first experience 
of war, and to a nature like his the sight was 
appaling ; groans and prayers, shrieks and oaths 
greeted his ears, and his sympathetic heart was 
bleeding with pity. 

On cots, on stretchers, on hay, and on the 
bare ground, everywhere, the dead and dying 
exposed to rain and sun, — tropical sun whose 
rays would sicken a well man. American 
youths bared to the waist, with ghastly wounds 
gaping to the insects ; Spanish conscripts, 
whose dark handsome features were almost hid- 



204 


IONE. 


205 


den by clotted blood, begged for help until one 
grew faint under the inability to immediately 
relieve all. But the few dextrous hands aided 
by the nurses, soon worked wonders, considering 
their surroundings. 

About two weeks after Dr. Grey landed, a 
gentle, little Red Cross nurse approached him, 
as he was dressing a painful wound in the 
shoulder of a regular, and said : 

“ Please sir, when you are through will you 
not come with me to see a very sick nurse ? 
She has been so faithful, so brave, so helpful 
that I cannot let her die. It is just across the 
way — you can soon return. Please come for a 
few moments.” 

Dr. Grey finished dressing the wound and 
followed her to a rude structure. “ How long 
has she been here ? ” he inquired. 

“ She was brought in a wagon from the rear 
this morning,” was the answer. “ She has been 
sick two days.” 

Dr. Grey entered the miserable hut, following 
the nurse to a corner of the room where the pa- 
tient lay. Kneeling beside the prostrate form, 
with her head half buried in the straw, was a 
diminutive little woman, who, upon his approach, 
raised her head, gave a scream of joy, and then 
fainted. 


2o6 


IONE. 


“ Muriel ! ” he exclaimed. He bore her limp 
form to the opposite side of the room, adminis- 
tered restoratives and hastily returned to the 
patient whose side she had been kneeling at, 
and whom he felt positive to be none other than 
Salome. As he looked at the beautiful form, 
limp in the throes of what might prove to be 
yellow fever. Why did he reproach himself? 
Why did he forget all other patients ? Hastily, 
with lips moving in prayer, he exerted himself 
to the utmost to save her. His previous exper- 
ience in tropical lands had rendered him fam- 
iliar with the best treatment for the disease, 
and never before had he felt so proud of the 
knowledge. 

Muriel soon regained consciousness and im- 
ploringly called upon him to “ save Salome, her 
best friend.” 

“ I will do all in my power, God knows, Mu- 
riel, but you must be composed and aid in nurs- 
ing her, for much depends upon that.” 

Muriel arose and assisted him in placing 
Salome in a more comfortable position. The 
strong probabilities were that she was liable to 
end her life as she began it, — without even 
the necessary comforts of life. All her battles 
in early life had been because of poverty and 
its dire results ; all her rebellious thoughts, be- 


IONE. 


20 7 


cause she had not been born amid luxury and 
honor, and now she had willingly and gladly 
chosen this service and complained not of its 
hardships. God in the first had fitted her for 
the last, why can we not submit to his deal- 
ings ? 

Dr. Grey bathed her temples, stroked her soft 
tapering hands, feeling an inclination to clasp 
them and hold them forever. No sign of return- 
ing consciousness greeted him and here, as in 
all his service, duty came first. He knew he 
must return to his wounded and fever-stricken 
patients. 

But “ O,” he thought, “ I may never see her 
alive again ! ” Still he must leave her. Seem- 
ingly unconscious of the presence of Muriel and 
the other nurse, he stooped and pressed his lips 
to Salome’s feverish ones. “ Darling, ” he whis- 
pered, “ you would have done more than that 
for me,” then rose, gave Muriel explicit direc- 
tions, and went back like a piece of mechanism 
to his post of duty. 

His aids did not know why he was so preoc- 
cupied the rest of the day ; his patients did not 
understand why he was more tender than usual, 
and the nurses could barely make out verbal 
directions. Only God above knew his thoughts 
and determinations. 


2 0 8 


IONE. 


The interminable ended at last, when he re- 
turned to the Oregon and later, obtained per- 
mission to go ashore. He filled a basket with 
necessities and delicacies, took his own pillows 
and blankets from his berth, hailed a shoreboat 
and was rowed to the city. It was late when 
he landed but after obtaining the services of a 
Cuban boy to carry his basket, he trudged the 
mile to Salome’s bedside. 

Things w T ere much as he had left them, except 
Muriel, more nervous and the patient more rest- 
less, but his very presence reassured the former 
and when she found he would remain the night 
with them she wept for joy. Kneeling, he ten- 
derly raised Salome and they placed the blank- 
ets and pillows underneath her. Did he hold 
her form closer than he thought, to his own ? If 
so, we will forgive him, for it seemed to him all 
that life now held dear was slipping away. 

Muriel knew of Salome’s wild passion for Dr. 
Grey in the past, and now she felt that he 
returned her love with a fervor surprising to 
any one who understood his calm nature. How 
she longed and prayed for Salome’s life to be 
spared, but with every hope came the present 
critical condition. Finally Dr. Grey bade both 
Muriel and the other nurse lie down and sleep, 
himself sitting on the straw beside Salome thus 


IONE. 


209 


becoming sole watcher, noting every change 
which, with his familiar knowledge of the indi- 
cations, united with readiness and dexterity in 
the application of needed restoratives, brought 
on a quietness that toward morning, betokened 
consciousness. 

He gently awakened Muriel, told her the sit- 
uation, and warned her to not let Salome know 
of his presence for fear of disastrous results ; 
then taking some tea from the basket he left 
them, but soon returned with a steaming vessel 
of the beverage, prepared by his own hands for 
their breakfast. 

For several days they had had barely enough 
of the coarsest diet to satisfy hunger, — which 
doubtless was one cause of Salome succumbing 
to fever — so they hastened to partake of the 
delicacies brought them by Dr. Grey, with an 
appetite bordering on voraciousness. Late in the 
afternoon, Salome showed further signs of re- 
turning consciousness, but only long enough for 
Muriel to tell her where she was and that she 
had a good physician, who had promised to 
soon return. 

When Dr. Grey again entered the hut, Muriel 
motioned him to silence but at the sound of his 
step, Salome tried to raise her head. He hastily 
crossed the room and, realizing that she had 


210 


IONE. 


recognized him, knelt beside her taking both 
her hands in his and implored her, for his sake 
to be quiet. “ For his sake ! ” How sweet the 
words were to her. With that wild longing born 
of disappointment and suffering she gazed into 
his face seeking some sign of explanation to his 
words. Muriel had left the room and they were 
alone. Stooping and again pressing his lips 
to hers, he said: 

“ Yes darling, for my sake. For the sake of 
the one that loves you better than his own 
life, for the sake of the man who feels honored 
in loving you and having your love. Try to 
recover, Salome. Your many lasting and noble 
virtues, dear one, put to shame my inherited 
conservative ideas. My love is no spurious 
growth but that of ripened friendship, and has 
the only lasting foundation ; that of truly test- 
ed merit. 

“ I have carried my own and my family pride 
to such an extent that God first came near tak- 
ing my own and now your precious life, to show 
me where I stood. I was drawn, through pity, 
to my first, my dead love whose memory I hold 
sacred. Will you accept this new born love, 
Salome ? Will you recover and be a precious 
wife to the man twice your age ? ” 

Her eyes sparkled with joy as she held out 


IONE. 


2 1 1 


both her hands, which he seized and covered 
with kisses. Fearful of the effect this would 
have upon her, he was glad at the approach 
of Muriel, when their conversation was forced 
into another channel. He fed her some beef 
tea Muriel had prepared, and was over-joyed 
to see her soon drop into a sound sleep, from 
which he knew she would awaken much stron- 
ger. All the following night he again watched 
beside her, refusing the rest Muriel pressed him 
so hard to take, but his joys in life had been 
so vanishing, he feared an early flight of this 
one. All night Jie held her hand in his, im- 
printing on it warm kisses often-er than he 
would care to admit even to himself. Once she 
asked to be raised up, and he sat behind her 
and let her beautiful form rest against his 
own. Did he envy the angels ? This one 
night of ecstatic rapturous joy fully repaid 
him for his whole life of sentimental emptiness. 

At daylight he strode languidly out into the 
fresh air to begin his day’s work in this fever 
stricken city Four thousand of our own men 
prostrate with fevers, beside the wounded of 
both armies and the sick natives. Reeking pes- 
tilence stalking abroad in this already foul city. 
O, war, war ! How long before all nations will 
accept the Czar’s disarmament proposition, 
and Christian peace shall reign ? 


212 


IONE. 


On the tall hill, not far distant, Dr. Grey 
could see in the early morning light, old Moro 
Castle ; nearer him were the spires of ancient 
cathedrals and public buildings, some almost in 
ruins from age and others demolished by our 
bombardment. “ Man’s inhumanity to man ! ” 

Back to his day’s work he went with the usual 
vigor and strength. He did not realize any change 
in himself sufficient to attract his attention, but 
after his usual visit to the ship and his return to 
Salome’s quarters, — Muriel had positively for- 
bidden his watching longer — he found on lying 
down that his strength was spent and, although 
he had scarcely slept during fifty-six hours, he 
.could, by no artificial means, court the relaxa- 
tion of his physical being, but restlessly turned 
from side to side. 

Morning found him unable to rise and by 
noon he had developed symptoms of Salome’s 
disease, at which Muriel became thoroughly 
alarmed. She retained perfect self-possession, 
however, and with the aid of a few minutes call 
from a surgeon she had summoned, treated him 
alone. With untiring energy she devoted her- 
self to both her patients, anxious in this, their 
dire need, to return some of their devotion to 
her. She begged of two passing volunteers their 
blankets, asked their assistance to remove him 


TONE. 


213 


to another room, and in appreciation of the 
services he had rendered some of their com- 
rades, they came one at a time and helped her 
to nurse him. 

She no longer ate of the stores which the 
thoughtfulness of Dr. Grey had provided them 
with, but returned to the course fare issued to 
all alike. The nurse who first summoned him, 
again came to her assistance, and for a week 
they wrestled with the “pale horse and his rider” 
for protectorate of Dr. Grey. Finally he was 
out of danger, but his recovery, owing to the 
lack of proper nourishment which was scarcely 
obtainable, was very slow and when, two weeks 
later they were ordered on board a transport 
going to Montauk, the faithful volunteers car- 
ried him, Salome walking between Muriel and 
the other nurse. She was only a shadow of her 
former self, but now they were going home, the 
realization fanned into life enough vitality to 
insure their recovery. 

As Salome looked at the green hills of Cuba, 
and thought of what nature had done for this 
beautiful isle ; then painfully compared it with 
the devastation and sorrow which tyranny had 
wrought for years among those same ever green 
mountains, she thought of Kiplings “ White 
Man’s Burden.” 


314 


IONE. 


“ Take up the white man’s burden. — 

The savage wars of peace — 

Fill full the mouth of famine, 

And bid the sickness cease ! ” 

Her heart was lifted to God and she prayed 
that the latter part of this verse might be true 
of this emerald isle. 

“Farewell ! And on thy bright hillsides 
Soon may the sunshine of plenty 
Shine as in days of thy glory. 

* * * * 

“ There on the earliest highlands, 

Raise thou a new gonfalon.” 

From Salome’s seat on the deck of the trans- 
port, she could hear the moans and beseechings 
of the sick and convalescent. The heat of 
August in Cuba was intensified a-board-ship, 
and some soon succumbed beneath its intense- 
ness, and were given a watery grave. 

“ Mist on the sea ; like a great bird’s pendulous wing, 
Broken and hushed ; it trails on the face of the main, 
Down comes the sun, a red shot from a merciful sling 
Burning its heart with swift death as an end to the pain.” 

But high above all this suffering, written in 
delibly on every scene, were the words, “ going 
home,” and with these thoughts came those of 
another home-going. 


IONE. 


21 5 


“ Into the harbor of heaven now we glide, 

We are home at last — home at last 
Softly we drift o’er its smooth flowing tide 
We’re home at last — home at last. 

Glory to God all our dangers are o’er 
We stand secure on the glorified shore, 

Glory to Cod we will shout ever-more 
We’re home at last — home at last.” 

From a tropical sea into the cold winds of an 
eastern coast these debilitated mortals came 
shivering, but by the aid of loving hands 
their wants were somewhat ameliorated. The 
critical press cries out in horror, likening the 
administration of our government to murderers 
simply because by negligence, lack of knowledge 
and indifference, a few hundred lives have been 
sacrificed in this Spanish-American war, when 
for over a century she has been dealing out to 
splendid manhood — and alas! Sometimes, 
womanhood — both a body and soul destroyer. 
Everywhere are licensed agents ; in city, in ham- 
let, amid the very gorges of the rock-boldered 
mountain heights, with proffered glass of that 
which surely means “drink and die.” But it is 
only one mother’s son that is applicable to 
Avery Coonley’s verses. 

“ Only one killed the head-line reads, 

The glad news speeds ; 

The newsboys cry, ‘ Killed only one ! 

He was my son. 


2l6 


TONE. 


What were a thousand to this one? They 
are scattered over all this beautiful continent. 
Army camps alone do not furnish them ; no un- 
iform but that of slovenly dress which culmin- 
ates in tatters ; no coat of arms but of his 
“ Satanic Majesty ; ” no pay but taunts of 
friends and jeers of the masses ; no drill ground 
but our side-walks, our streets and alleys ; no 
weapons but the forbidden one with which he 
slays his best friend or himself ; no battles but 
those fought with associates or loved ones at 
home ; a reeling mighty army of nearly one 
hundred thousand every year. A few hundred 
graves at the different places of conflict, receive 
the pity of all alike, but the thousands slain 
every year by this, our boasted nation, are 
viewed indifferently. 



CHAPTER XXII. 


WO years have passed since the re- 
turn from Cuba. Dr. Grey and his 
charming, useful wife were as happy 
as two such noble natures can suc- 
ceed in making themselves. 

While the Oregon’s crew, both officers and 
men were loth to part with him, his community 
and state rejoiced to have him among them 
once more. The school, well begun by Salome, 
was carried to perfection by his aid and advice 
and several classes were now leaving it to go out 
into the world. Manly, muscular boys — well 
fed in body and mind, and with lofty aspirations, 
the wave thus set in motion to be forever lash- 
ing its white crested circle upon the very shore 
of eternity. 

Across the lawn — as Dr. Grey and his wife 
were again sitting in the summer-house beside 
the lake he, with his arm encircling her waist — 
there came a bright looking mulatto nurse push- 
ing a carriage, and in it, diminutive lone Grey, so 



2l8 


tONE. 


named by the request of their mutual friend, 
Eugene Morris, who was very often with them, 
not because Muriel spent a large portion of her 
time with these, her dearest friends, oh, no ; 
but as he thought to impress them, in the inter- 
est of the railroad for which he was attorney. 

Dr. Grey and Salome were as happy as mor- 
tals are permitted to be because there was no 
clashing, each, after ten years close intimacy 
knowing and appreciating the other’s faults and 
virtues, and positively realizing the fact that 
they could not live happy separated. Each had 
proven that under the most trying surroundings 
and conditions, they were not made of degener- 
ating material. 

As a soft breeze rustled the leaves on the 
edge of the lake, Dr. Grey gently wrapped a 
crimson scarf about the young mother’s shoul- 
ders and suggested they return to their house. 

Salome’s two elder brothers were back at their 
home, having finished their college course, and 
each had been tendered the position of manager 
of different agricultural departments. 

Dr. Grey had secured Stanley a naval cadet- 
ship hoping thus to somewhat perpetuate his 
own work. Jessie was in the industrial school 
learning, together with her higher studies, all 
useful domestic virtues that a dependent girl 
should know. 


IONE. 


219 


Dr. Grey objected on the ground that Jessie 
was not dependent, for their home should al- 
ways be hers. But Salome convinced him that 
her own early life would have been happier if 
Miss Jane, his sister, had required more labor 
by her hands. 

Muriel was with them now, and Eugene Mor- 
ris was stopping over for a few days at their 
hospitable home. At present they were prome- 
nading at the lower end of the garden, and his 
low tones and entreating eyes bespoke his 
emotion. 

“ It is now two years, Muriel, since Mr. Gran- 
ville’s death,” he pleaded. “ I have patiently 
waited all this time before addressing you, feel- 
ing that entreaties would be in vain before the 
expiration of that time. What I have endured 
you will never understand but I can remain 
silent no longer. Muriel, I offer you, — my 
first and only love — my whole heart with a 
promise to devote my life too you. Will you 
accept it, will you listen to my pleadings and 
become the wife of the man that adores you ? ” 

She paused and seated herself on a rustic 
seat against a tree and he stood leaning over 
the back, gazing into her eyes as^if he would 
penetrate her very sonl. At length she 
said : 


220 


TONE. 


“ I cannot do that, Mr. Morris, I cannot ! I 
cannot ! ” 

“ Do you not love me then, Muriel ? ” 

“ Yes, I do, and that with all my heart, but 
I cannot say as you can, ‘ for the first time, ’ 
for despite the unhappy ending of my former 
marriage I, at that time, and long after our 
marriage, idolized Mr. Granville. 

“ For which I honor you, Muriel,” he replied. 
“ If I felt that you had falsified your word at the 
marriage altar I could not even respect you.” 

“ No, but I broke my marriage vow after. I 
took a solemn vow that I did not keep. I 
took him 1 for better or worse,’ promising to love 
him always, let him do what he might , a vow 
wholly out of keeping with human nature . 

“ We can pity and love if they fall ; men and 
women have proven their devotion and fidel- 
ity to weak inferior natures, but from tyrannical, 
abusive ones, all our refined elements shrink. 
Can we love the object from which we shrink in 
terror ? Can we come, canine-like and caress the 
hand that wielded the lash o’er our trembling 
beings? And yet; I promised to do it, for which 
no one gave me a word of warning, and for 
which no one denounced me, but all held up 
their hands in holy horror when I failed.” 

“Why, my dear Muriel, revert to this un- 


10NE. 


221 


happy stage in your life.” Morris pleaded. “ You 
could not help it, it is all over, let by-gones 
be buried and trust your future happiness to 
me.” 

For a moment Muriel remained silent, then 
looking up into Eugene’s face, said : “ If I re- 

peat the error will not my sins be magnified a 
hundred fold ? Surely you do not think I can 
ever be guilty of such baseness ? Neither did 
I think my first love would so debase himself. 
But in justice to your noble nature let me say, 
as you doubtless already know, that you have 
my whole heart. To Mr. Granville, I gave a 
girl’s trusting, springtime love. To you, Eugene 
Morris, I have poured out a mature woman’s, 
fuller, riper devotion ; and as you are to-day, I 
shall forever love you, but from experience I 
know I could not love you should your nature, 
like his become debased. Would you ask me to 
again take that vow ? ” 

“ Surely, Muriel, you do not thus intend to 
cast me off ? ” 

“ No,” she replied, “ I do not wish to cast 
you off. I could not live without sometimes see- 
ing you, and but for that one clause in the mar- 
riage ceremony, I would gladly become your 
wife.” 

“Will you blight both our lives, Muriel, be- 


222 


TONE. 


cause formalities compel us to say what we do not 
believe ? We cannot rectify the evil, we are in 
no wise responsible. Let us only do the best 
we know how, getting what happiness we can 
out of the balance of our earthly existence. You 
will wreck my life, Muriel. Let me beseech 
you to accept the situation, and let us go hand 
in hand henceforth.” 

“ That would be to me a joy unspeakable, 
nor do I believe you will ever fall. Had I 
been older, I would have known that many of 
the tendencies in Mr. Granville before we were 
married, were downward, but I cannot sole?nnly 
promise before God and man to do that which I 
know to be an impossibility. Not only yours 
but my own respect would I lose, and become 
before God a falsifier.” As she finished, she 
arose, and placed her hand on his arm, and un- 
der cover of the evening that had descended 
upon them, he pressed her to his manly bosom 
and for the first time, imprinted passionate kis- 
ses on her lips. 

Slowly they returned to the house, there to 
rejoin the family. Dr. Grey and Salome, know- 
ing Muriel’s sentiments, knew by Eugene’s ex- 
pression, that he had been rejected. That night, 
when Dr. Grey accompanied him to his room 
and the door was closed upon them, he said : 


IONE. 


223 


“ Cheer up, old fellow, you shall both accom- 
pany Salome and I East next month, when we 
go to attend the peace conference of nations, 
and even if it be in some heathenish land, we 
will find a form of marriage that does not make 
requirements that prevent Muriel becoming 
your wife. 




. . . . . “ Companionless 

As the last cloud of expiring storm, 

Whose thunder is its knell ; 

* * * 

With feeble steps o’er the world’s wilderness j 
And his own thoughts, along that rugged way, 
Pursued like raging hounds 
. . . . . their prey.” 

Schelley. 

As the lopping of the wide-spread, beautiful 
branches result in the unattractive trunk, soon 
covering itself afresh with a closer, safer foli- 
age ; as the agriculturist severs the main root to 
assist nature in developing some species of 
plant ; as we prune back the rose to secure more 


IONE. 


2 24 

and better bloom ; as the husbandman severs 
the adorning young tendrils of the vine to ob- 
tain a bountiful yield of fruit, so often, God 
snatches from our lives all that seems attractive, 
leaving bare our souls to form fresh tendrils and 
invoke Him to renew our strength and keep 
warm within the heart shorn of all love, the 
main life issues. 

Such an experience had come to Mrs. Chilton. 
She did not remove the bodies of husband and 
daughter from among the tall grass and spread- 
ing palms of Cuba, but simply re-intered them in 
costly caskets, and after disposing of all her 
property in New York, returned to the land of 
her buried loved ones, to try in that needy place 
to make hasty amends for the wasted years of 
her life. 

No part of the magnificent fortune left her by 
her husband was spent in erecting marble 
shafts, but instead, a training school for women 
was endowed and dedicated to their name. 

“ Prometheus like,” with no Mount Caucasus, 
hurried with the remains of “Pandora’s box,” 
Pyrrha gathered the stones alone, unbound the 
hindering garments of despotic fashion and with 
great strength, cast the mere “ Skeletons of her 
ancestors ” to the winds and in this act, 
helped renew the race her own frivolity had aid- 
ed in degenerating. 


IONE. 


225 


The same justness and faithfulness could not 
be accorded to Mrs. Chilton that was accorded 
to Deucalion and his wife, but to a patient, 
Heavenly Father alone, was due this opportunity 
to gather up “ life’s threads ” and begin anew. 



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